Original Fic for the Weekend Challenge at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
1_million_words
Apr. 24th, 2018 10:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cmk418Part of my "On the Dotted Line" saga
I didn’t realize the place had a jukebox until I heard the song “Wild Horses” for the third time. Someone must have liked it. It was a little too slow for me and clashed with the hockey action on the television.
“Simone, you’ve got to realize that there are more choices in life than A-6,” said the bartender.
“I like this one. Give me a whiskey neat and give my friend here another.”
The bartender glanced at me and I shrugged. The woman, Simone, sang a little under her breath. Her voice was low and sultry. I slowly turned to face her. She was almost as tall as I was, with hair dyed an unnatural shade of red.
“Do you like this song?” she asked.
“It’s not one of my favorites, but I like the way you sing it.”
She smiled at me and extended a hand. “I’m Simone.”
“I’m-“ I paused. I didn’t know this woman and I probably wouldn’t see her after tonight, but still, I needed to be cautious.
“Did you forget?”
“I’m Eddie,” I shook hands with her, making sure that the contact between us was brief.
“Who’s winning?”
“Oh, the game? Toronto. But it’s only by a goal. The Blues could come back.”
“I suppose.”
“Are you a fan?”
“I like what I see,” she said.
I glanced over to find her watching me instead of the game. She smiles at me.
“Do you do this often?”
“Do what?”
“Buy drinks for strange men.”
“Just the ones I like. I found the direct approach to be more satisfying than waiting around for someone to come to me. And you’re not a strange man. You’re Eddie who likes hockey. I am probably the only person in this place who knows that about you.”
“And you’re Simone who likes the Rolling Stones and her whiskey neat.”
“Exactly. I like a man who pays attention.” She grinned at me. “The Blues just scored by the way.”
It took everything I had not to turn immediately toward the television set. I smiled at her. “That’s great. Just great.”
The bartender placed our drinks down in front of us, breaking the spell. “I should probably let you get back to the game,” Simone said. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Wait,” I said. Part of me was kicking myself. This was a bad idea. Tonight was just going to be a quick drink and a few minutes of hockey. Nothing more. I didn’t need to complicate my life any further. Hell, she seemed like a nice woman. I didn’t need to complicate her life either.
“What’s up?”
“I know you sing, but do you dance?”
“Sometimes.”
“Okay,” I said. I dug in my pockets for a quarter, walked over to the jukebox and selected “A-6”. There were a multitude of groans from other people in the bar as the song picked up. I held out a hand, feeling a little silly and nervous. I hadn’t done anything like this since Junior Prom. She put her hand in mine and we began to sway along with the music.
Wild horses wouldn’t drag me away.
I didn’t realize the place had a jukebox until I heard the song “Wild Horses” for the third time. Someone must have liked it. It was a little too slow for me and clashed with the hockey action on the television.
“Simone, you’ve got to realize that there are more choices in life than A-6,” said the bartender.
“I like this one. Give me a whiskey neat and give my friend here another.”
The bartender glanced at me and I shrugged. The woman, Simone, sang a little under her breath. Her voice was low and sultry. I slowly turned to face her. She was almost as tall as I was, with hair dyed an unnatural shade of red.
“Do you like this song?” she asked.
“It’s not one of my favorites, but I like the way you sing it.”
She smiled at me and extended a hand. “I’m Simone.”
“I’m-“ I paused. I didn’t know this woman and I probably wouldn’t see her after tonight, but still, I needed to be cautious.
“Did you forget?”
“I’m Eddie,” I shook hands with her, making sure that the contact between us was brief.
“Who’s winning?”
“Oh, the game? Toronto. But it’s only by a goal. The Blues could come back.”
“I suppose.”
“Are you a fan?”
“I like what I see,” she said.
I glanced over to find her watching me instead of the game. She smiles at me.
“Do you do this often?”
“Do what?”
“Buy drinks for strange men.”
“Just the ones I like. I found the direct approach to be more satisfying than waiting around for someone to come to me. And you’re not a strange man. You’re Eddie who likes hockey. I am probably the only person in this place who knows that about you.”
“And you’re Simone who likes the Rolling Stones and her whiskey neat.”
“Exactly. I like a man who pays attention.” She grinned at me. “The Blues just scored by the way.”
It took everything I had not to turn immediately toward the television set. I smiled at her. “That’s great. Just great.”
The bartender placed our drinks down in front of us, breaking the spell. “I should probably let you get back to the game,” Simone said. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Wait,” I said. Part of me was kicking myself. This was a bad idea. Tonight was just going to be a quick drink and a few minutes of hockey. Nothing more. I didn’t need to complicate my life any further. Hell, she seemed like a nice woman. I didn’t need to complicate her life either.
“What’s up?”
“I know you sing, but do you dance?”
“Sometimes.”
“Okay,” I said. I dug in my pockets for a quarter, walked over to the jukebox and selected “A-6”. There were a multitude of groans from other people in the bar as the song picked up. I held out a hand, feeling a little silly and nervous. I hadn’t done anything like this since Junior Prom. She put her hand in mine and we began to sway along with the music.
Wild horses wouldn’t drag me away.
