I told myself I'd write today, so this is it. No edits, just word vomit.
The girl wasn't anything special. Mousy hair done up in a ponytail that might have been perfect this morning, but through the course of the day had gone limper than a soggy noodle. Her blouse was worn from repeated washing and the rips in her jeans were from actual wear and tear rather than a fashion statement. She looked like a tired, overworked college student, one of many who'd come out on a Friday night in an attempt to reclaim their life.
There was absolutely nothing special about her, save for perhaps a set of breasts that made her look like she was about to fall over. Some guys were into that.
But as he sat in the corner of the bar and nursed his bottle of beer, his gaze kept coming back to her. Who was she? What did she study? Why was she in a place like this when there were plenty of other bars that attracted people her age?
Snorting, Jason took a swig to hide it. He couldn't be more than a handful of years older than this gal at most, and yet he felt like he'd lived a thousand lifetimes. World weary and jaded beyond belief, that was him. Some might say he was an old soul, but that was bullshit. His soul had simply done and seen too much, that was all.
So why shouldn't he get his ass up and go talk to the mousy girl in the red scoop-necked top with little white flowers dotting it? If he'd seen so much and done so much, then didn't he deserve to take a few hours to actually act his age?
Besides, it would satisfy his curiosity, that's for damned sure.
Jason slid out of his corner booth and made his way across the room to lean against the bar, as close as he could to the gal without seeming like a creeper. He finished his beer in two gulps and raised the empty bottle when he caught the bartender's eye. She nodded and kept up her chatter with some other patrons while she filled a pitcher.
"Wish it worked that easily for me," came a soft voice beside him.
Jason wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth. "Oh?" he asked, shifting so he had a better look at the object of his curiosity.
Her voice was lower pitched than he'd expected given how slender she was--not that that had anything to do with her vocal cords.
The gal tucked a stray piece of mousy hair behind her ear and offered a shy smile. "If I'm in a booth, everyone ignores me. It's like I blend in to the wall."
Jason scoffed at the thought. This close, he could see she had sharp features, cheekbones most women would kill for, and stunning blue eyes, delicately framed with some eyeshadow and mascara. "I doubt that. You're too pretty to blend in."
Color rose on the gal's cheeks, a delicate pink that had her abruptly turning her head away.
He could barely hear her mumbled thanks before she hopped off the barstool.
"I didn't mean to scare you off," he said, gently reaching for her shoulder. His touch was light enough she could easily brush him aside if she wanted to. "I'm not really good at small talk," he added somewhat sheepishly. "So I'm sorry if that came out wrong."
She stilled under his touch and turned. There was some muscle to her, which was nice to see. Toothpicks with boobs weren't his style either. Her gaze was everywhere but on him before she settled. "You think I'm pretty?" she asked, shy and uncertain.
"Yeah," Jason answered, wishing they weren't in a bar in Burnley and that he didn't have to meet Tim in a few hours to share data on a case that had converged into one. "Anyone who can ignore eyes like yours is an idiot."
The girl's smile grew, though the curve of her thin lips made it seem like she was laughing even though she didn't make a sound. "You seem like a romantic at heart."
Jason nodded at the assessment. "Not the first time I've heard that. Just don't expect me to break into really bad verse."
"I won't." The gal picked up her drink and took a sip, looking for all the world like she needed the liquid courage. "I'm Caroline," she said after a moment. "What's your name?"
