Chapter Text
Rows of red taillights are distorted through the raindrops that cling to the window of your cab. You stare absent-mindedly at the rush hour traffic, feeling melancholy after an emotionally taxing day. Work was truly terrible and you need to decompress before heading home. The driver glances back at you through the rearview mirror.
“Pretty nasty out today,” he says in a gruff voice. You nod in agreement, painfully aware of how wet your socks are, but you don’t have the energy for small talk. You spend the rest of the ride in silence.
You enter the mostly empty bar and pick a seat along the rail, shaking off your wet coat and pulling a small paperback book out of your purse. The bartender approaches you with a warm smile. He’s a young, handsome man with ginger hair and bright blue eyes. His black tee clings to his frame in a pleasing way and a bit of chest hair peeks through the slight v-neck.
“Hey, how’s it going? What can I get you started with?” He asks energetically.
You feign a smile and reply, “Can I get a gin and tonic with a twist?” He nods and gets started on your drink while you leaf through your book, trying to find where you left off. He returns, placing a coaster in front of you and setting your drink on top of it. He also slides a small dish of cherries across the bar to you. You look up at him as he flashes a sparkling grin.
“Cherries?” You ask, confused.
“You look like you’ve had a pretty sour day. I figured you might need something sweet to cancel it out,” he said with a shrug.
“Oh,” you say, blushing at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you.” You pluck one of the cherries from its stem with your teeth and give an exaggerated “MMM” to humor him. He lets out a chuckle. You sip your drink which perfectly hits the spot. Your stomach tingles with warmth. You turn your attention back to your book but your reading is interrupted once again.
“Whatcha readin’?” He asks. You bristle, a little annoyed. You think it’s pretty clear you want to be left alone. You sigh and look back up at him.
“Uh, I’m not actually sure.” You flip the book over to read the front cover. “Ethan Frome. I just grabbed it off my roommate’s shelf this morning.” He seems amused.
“Hmm, okay.” he says in a tone you can’t quite make out. Like there’s a joke that only he was in on. “I’m sorry, am I annoying you? You can tell me if I am…You wouldn’t be the first.” He laughed. You sense he isn’t kidding about that last part.
“I just had a long day. I kinda wanted to read in peace if that’s okay with you.” You’re really trying your hardest not to be rude.
“Say no more.” He says, zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. You turn your attention back to your book again and begin to read. The bartender turns his back to you, wiping down draft handles. Your eyes graze the words on the page but don’t absorb their meaning. Something is nagging in the back of your mind.
“And what exactly did you mean by ‘Hmm, okay’?” You ask, mocking his tone indignantly.
He ducks beneath the bar and resurfaces a second later with his imaginary key. He pantomimes unlocking his lips and unzipping them.
“Incredible, so you’re inviting me to talk?” He raises a brow at you. You roll your eyes at his theatrics and shrug.
“I suppose so.” You say and continue to sip your drink.
“Well, if I remember correctly, Ethan Frome had that kind of thing where he was, like, you know a kind of a crabby guy limping around in bad weather and if you look at this situation right now, it’s bad weather and you’re crabby. And you’re limping. Or, or not exactly limping, but you have that sorta gait like someone who has maybe a pebble in their shoe. It’s an interesting sorta just funny coincidence, not that you really are like Ethan Frome, it’s just like a parallel you could, like, draw from the book you’re reading to this situation right now.”
You don’t really know how to react to that. “Oh.. well.. I have water in my socks,” you reply with a little bit of a sad giggle.
He lets out a loud, short laugh and uses one hand to punch the palm of his other. He notices your drink is nearly empty. “I’ll getcha another one, on me. My name is Brennan, by the way”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brennan,” You say, hamming it up just a little. “I’m Y/N”
You agree to one more round. The two of you exchange pleasantries for the better part of an hour before you put your damp coat back on and start your walk home. As you walk, you think back over your conversation and feel a blush rising up on your cheeks. You try to fight a giddy grin and wonder if you should have asked for his number. You tell yourself you will definitely be visiting that bar again.