Friday, July 15, 2011

Eight Six Seven Five Three Oh Ni-ee-ine

You should have asked if you could write her, Inigo admonished.

Write her? You mean get her number? Damian glanced over his shoulder at the closed door of the bar.

Yes, so you may telephone her. Sometimes I am forgetting of modern conveniences.

Damian shook his head.  No, that's not my style.

I can feel the untruth of those words, Damian.  You are scared, Inigo said.

There was no point in lying to something that was already in your head.  Of course I'm scared.  You saw her, Inigo.  She is way out of my league.

League? Inigo asked.

Yes, Inigo.  League.  As in, she is far too attractive for me.  Damian checked to make sure that he had replaced his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans.  After spending more than enough on drinks - delivered swiftly and with a radiant smile - he'd tossed a twenty on the bar and left.  The night had raised his spirits somewhat, and so, in that regard, he supposed it had been a success.

Ah, but you are intelligent and possessing of a well-paying job, no?  Even in my time did money entice pretty women, Inigo said.  It cannot be much different in these days.

No, I guess you're right... but she's not like that, Inigo. 

And you know this how?

I don't know... she just... I can tell.  Damian shoved his hands into his pockets.

It sounds to me like you are making excuses.  I could not help but notice the amount that she smiled upon you.

She was working.  It is her job to be friendly as well as serve the beer.  Damian frowned.  Had she really smiled at him more than the other patrons?  Just let it go, Inigo.

As you wish, Damian.

"Damian."  The voice had said his name at the same moment as Inigo.  As such, it took Damian a moment to realize that it hadn't been completely in his head.  He froze a few steps later with one foot in the air.

"Damian," she said again, closer this time.

Damian's heart was hammering against his chest as he turned.  He swallowed once as he drank her in.  Even in the unflattering orange light of the parking lot, she was radiant.  He struggled to remember that he could speak.

"Yes?" he answered.

She smiled, closing the last few steps between them.  Her chest heaved and Damian tried not to stare.  She had apparently jogged to catch up to him.

"I'm sorry to chase you but I just..."  She bit her lip. 

Damian envied the tooth.  They stood there.  Crickets chirped nearby.  A truck passed on the distant highway.

"Here."  She had a napkin in her hand. 

"Did I spill something?"  Damian looked about his person in a panic.  Why am I such a klutz?

She giggled.  "No, it's my number."  She pressed the paper square into his hand.

Damian was stunned.

"Call me sometime," she suggested.

Damian nodded.

Then, she turned and walked back to the bar.  Damian stared openly.  She was so... smooth.

It took the door swinging shut for Damian to be released from his trance.  He held the paper in his hand up to the light.  Sure enough, there was a number on it.


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