Coro's Corner of Creation & Consideration

You met Jack at a bar—which is weird because bars hadn’t seen your face in years. Usually, you drank at home with a few close friends because, let’s be honest, bars are only sticky and loud. Your friend had invited you out for their birthday and while they were drunk off their ass with the rest of the party, you sat in the reserved booth and sipped your vodka cranberry. You didn’t complain about the large rip in the bright red seat or mention the peanut crumbs on the table—you weren’t trying to be a party pooper—but you noticed. And those things bothered you more than most people.

Not to forget the sheer volume of the music that practically shook your body or the random yelling and cheering from drunk patrons. You couldn’t hear yourself think, let alone listen to whatever your group was talking about. And you tried, but you could tell the more your friends drank, the less patient they were with you constantly saying “What?” and “Could you repeat that?”

So you stopped trying. You sat quietly and watched people dance and grind on each other and go through the actions of intercourse with clothes on all the while shifting so the stick of the leather booth didn’t rip your skin off.

You wanted to leave. That was all you thought about as your eyes scanned the room, but you’d just gotten there an hour ago. And it was your friend’s birthday. Leaving when you were supposed to be celebrating such an occasion was rude, you knew that…but the door was getting sexier by the minute.

Then you locked eyes with him. He was already staring at you from the bar when you finally noticed. Him with his curly, gray hair that looked good even in the crappy, bar lights. Him with biceps that had their own presence seeing how they stretched the sleeves of his cotton, blue shirt. Him with his eyes that didn’t pierce…but watched. Intently. 

Your heart skipped a beat. Why was a silver fox like him giving you the time of day?

And then he started to make his way toward you and you had to fight the urge to flee to the bathroom…wherever that was.

“Hey,” he said.

“What?” you replied, trying your darndest to hear him over the music and your own beating heart.

Instead of rolling his eyes like your friends had, he simply slid into the booth next to you and repeated his greeting once more.

“Oh, right,” you felt a little stupid. “Hi.”

Once he smiled at you, all the awkwardness left your body.

And the rest was history.