Eggnog 8, Margarita 3: Tanking
Title: Tanking
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Eggnog 8 (mistletoe), margarita 3 (flex), My Treat (Someone is posturing.), malt (Challenge: How did one of your main characters' parents meet? Was it love at first sight? Was it hate?), butterscotch, rainbow sprinkles (Lars's parents).
Word Count: 1117
Rating: PG-13 for a naughty word.
Summary: Henrik meets his future wife.
Notes: This was fun to write.
The girl at the bar flipped her hair over her shoulder and laughed at something the guy next to her said, batting her eyelashes at him, and slapping his shoulder playfully. He smiled at her, but got his drink and left-- she pouted for a moment, twining a nut-brown strand of hair around her finger, then picked up her glass, spun around to face the room, and lounged back against the bar, surveying the assembled crowd through narrowed eyes.
David lurched into Henrik's shoulder and, breathing alcoholic fumes into his face, said, "Check out the rack on that one."
Henrik sighed-- David got so crude when he was buzzed. "She has a nice smile," he said, temporizing.
David rolled his eyes. "You aren't looking at her smile."
"You have no idea what I'm looking at." Though David was, irritatingly enough, correct, at least in part. The girl did have very nice breasts, pretty little handfuls, but she also had a beautiful smile, all flashy teeth and blush-pink lipstick. Henrik watched them both.
Also her legs. She had very nice legs, too.
"Go pick her up," David said.
Henrik stared at him. "Are you kidding? A girl like that? We probably have nothing in common."
"Sure you do," David said. "You think she's sexy, she thinks she's sexy. That's something in common. Go pick her up."
Henrik looked back at the girl, who had tipped her head back to get the last three drops of alcohol, her throat long and slim under the lights. "And what incentive does she have to get picked up?"
"Besides your manly self?" David asked, and ruined the compliment by snickering. "Use the line."
"No," Henrik said, and popped the cap off his beer.
David scoffed. "Oh, come on. It's magic. It gets all the girls!"
Henrik rolled his eyes. "I've never seen it work."
"'Cause you don't go out with us enough." David nodded at the girl. "Go over, say hi, use the line. You'll see."
Henrik set the beer down on the table and rubbed his forehead. "David..."
David grinned. "Bet you twenty bucks it works."
Henrik dropped his hand to the table with a thud and glared at David, seriously considering reclassifying him from 'friend' to 'I don't know this guy.' "I am not hitting on a girl because of a bet."
David grunted. "Oh, lay off. You're not hitting on her because of a bet, you're hitting on her because she's sexy. The bet is purely on whether or not the line works."
"You have got," Henrik said, "to be kidding me."
"Come on," David said, and blew a breath of air out. "Live a little. I swear, some days I just want to give up on you altogether."
And that would be the freaking day. Still... David had a point. "Shut up," Henrik said. "Stay here. I'm going to go get another beer." He pushed out of his seat and headed for the bar.
"But you still have..." David started, then he laughed. "That's my man! Use the line!"
Henrik ignored him.
The girl noticed him heading towards her when he was about halfway across the room. Her eyes narrowed in speculation, then she took a sip of her drink, set it down on the bar, and leaned forward. "Hello," she said, when he came into earshot.
"Hi," Henrik said, and abruptly forgot everything he'd planned to say.
She looked at him for a moment. He stayed tongue-tied, and eventually, kindly, she said, "My name's Sherri. What's yours?"
To Henrik's eternal shame and horror, nothing came out but the line. "Most people call me Henrik. But you can call me tonight."
Sherri rolled her eyes. "Oh, whatever," she said. "Come up with something better and maybe I'll think about listening." She picked up her drink, hopped off the stool, and jerked her head at David, who was shaking his clasped hands in the air. "That goes for your asshole friend, too." She shoved into the crowd, and was gone.
Henrik sat down on her vacated barstool, folded his arms on the bar, and put his head down on them. Fucking David.
And as if that wasn't enough, a faint giggle drifted from behind the bar.
Oh, wonderful. He'd said something stupid and gotten shot down epically, in front of David who would certainly tell everyone they both knew, and now, to put the humiliation cherry on the embarrassment cake, the bartender was laughing at him.
Henrik lifted his head and glared at her. "Do you mind?"
"Sorry," she said, and giggled again. "It's just... you really tanked."
"Don't remind me." Henrik put his head down on his folded arms. "Ugh. I really fucked that one up."
The girl stopped giggling, and blinked. "Huh."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Huh?"
"It's just..." She shrugged. "You hear a lot of guys get shot down when you tend bar. Most of them blame the girl."
Henrik shook his head. "It's not her fault. That's a really stupid line. I just... David told me to use the line and when I got up here I couldn't think of anything else to say."
"That's rough," the girl said, and leaned on the bar. "You have trouble talking to girls?"
"Just the pretty ones," Henrik muttered, and realized how it sounded a half-second too late.
To his relief, the girl just laughed. "For that, I'm charging you extra," she said. "You just can't stop putting your foot in your mouth, can you?"
"Chronic stupidity," he said. "This is why I don't talk too much."
She smiled. "Aww, don't be so hard on yourself. I think it's kind of cute."
And so was she, with her narrow little pixie face and sharp cheekbones. He'd read about blue-black hair in books, but he'd never seen it on anyone before, until now.
Maybe it wasn't such a disaster after all.
"I'm Henrik," he said, and held his hand out across the bar.
"I know," she said, smiling, and took his hand. She had dimples in her cheeks. "I heard you earlier, remember? I'm Thea."
"Thea." He shook her hand, then faked a resigned sigh. "Are you ever going to let me forget that?"
She looked startled, then thoughtful, as he castigated himself-- it sounded like he expected something, for God's sake, and he didn't, except maybe he sort of did.
"I don't know," she said, surprising him. "We'll see how you behave, won't we?"
--
On the way home that night, he gave David his twenty dollars.
"Hey," David said, holding up the bill. "I thought she shot you down?"
"Sherri did," Henrik said. He thought of Thea's phone number in his back pocket, and smiled.
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Eggnog 8 (mistletoe), margarita 3 (flex), My Treat (Someone is posturing.), malt (Challenge: How did one of your main characters' parents meet? Was it love at first sight? Was it hate?), butterscotch, rainbow sprinkles (Lars's parents).
Word Count: 1117
Rating: PG-13 for a naughty word.
Summary: Henrik meets his future wife.
Notes: This was fun to write.
The girl at the bar flipped her hair over her shoulder and laughed at something the guy next to her said, batting her eyelashes at him, and slapping his shoulder playfully. He smiled at her, but got his drink and left-- she pouted for a moment, twining a nut-brown strand of hair around her finger, then picked up her glass, spun around to face the room, and lounged back against the bar, surveying the assembled crowd through narrowed eyes.
David lurched into Henrik's shoulder and, breathing alcoholic fumes into his face, said, "Check out the rack on that one."
Henrik sighed-- David got so crude when he was buzzed. "She has a nice smile," he said, temporizing.
David rolled his eyes. "You aren't looking at her smile."
"You have no idea what I'm looking at." Though David was, irritatingly enough, correct, at least in part. The girl did have very nice breasts, pretty little handfuls, but she also had a beautiful smile, all flashy teeth and blush-pink lipstick. Henrik watched them both.
Also her legs. She had very nice legs, too.
"Go pick her up," David said.
Henrik stared at him. "Are you kidding? A girl like that? We probably have nothing in common."
"Sure you do," David said. "You think she's sexy, she thinks she's sexy. That's something in common. Go pick her up."
Henrik looked back at the girl, who had tipped her head back to get the last three drops of alcohol, her throat long and slim under the lights. "And what incentive does she have to get picked up?"
"Besides your manly self?" David asked, and ruined the compliment by snickering. "Use the line."
"No," Henrik said, and popped the cap off his beer.
David scoffed. "Oh, come on. It's magic. It gets all the girls!"
Henrik rolled his eyes. "I've never seen it work."
"'Cause you don't go out with us enough." David nodded at the girl. "Go over, say hi, use the line. You'll see."
Henrik set the beer down on the table and rubbed his forehead. "David..."
David grinned. "Bet you twenty bucks it works."
Henrik dropped his hand to the table with a thud and glared at David, seriously considering reclassifying him from 'friend' to 'I don't know this guy.' "I am not hitting on a girl because of a bet."
David grunted. "Oh, lay off. You're not hitting on her because of a bet, you're hitting on her because she's sexy. The bet is purely on whether or not the line works."
"You have got," Henrik said, "to be kidding me."
"Come on," David said, and blew a breath of air out. "Live a little. I swear, some days I just want to give up on you altogether."
And that would be the freaking day. Still... David had a point. "Shut up," Henrik said. "Stay here. I'm going to go get another beer." He pushed out of his seat and headed for the bar.
"But you still have..." David started, then he laughed. "That's my man! Use the line!"
Henrik ignored him.
The girl noticed him heading towards her when he was about halfway across the room. Her eyes narrowed in speculation, then she took a sip of her drink, set it down on the bar, and leaned forward. "Hello," she said, when he came into earshot.
"Hi," Henrik said, and abruptly forgot everything he'd planned to say.
She looked at him for a moment. He stayed tongue-tied, and eventually, kindly, she said, "My name's Sherri. What's yours?"
To Henrik's eternal shame and horror, nothing came out but the line. "Most people call me Henrik. But you can call me tonight."
Sherri rolled her eyes. "Oh, whatever," she said. "Come up with something better and maybe I'll think about listening." She picked up her drink, hopped off the stool, and jerked her head at David, who was shaking his clasped hands in the air. "That goes for your asshole friend, too." She shoved into the crowd, and was gone.
Henrik sat down on her vacated barstool, folded his arms on the bar, and put his head down on them. Fucking David.
And as if that wasn't enough, a faint giggle drifted from behind the bar.
Oh, wonderful. He'd said something stupid and gotten shot down epically, in front of David who would certainly tell everyone they both knew, and now, to put the humiliation cherry on the embarrassment cake, the bartender was laughing at him.
Henrik lifted his head and glared at her. "Do you mind?"
"Sorry," she said, and giggled again. "It's just... you really tanked."
"Don't remind me." Henrik put his head down on his folded arms. "Ugh. I really fucked that one up."
The girl stopped giggling, and blinked. "Huh."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Huh?"
"It's just..." She shrugged. "You hear a lot of guys get shot down when you tend bar. Most of them blame the girl."
Henrik shook his head. "It's not her fault. That's a really stupid line. I just... David told me to use the line and when I got up here I couldn't think of anything else to say."
"That's rough," the girl said, and leaned on the bar. "You have trouble talking to girls?"
"Just the pretty ones," Henrik muttered, and realized how it sounded a half-second too late.
To his relief, the girl just laughed. "For that, I'm charging you extra," she said. "You just can't stop putting your foot in your mouth, can you?"
"Chronic stupidity," he said. "This is why I don't talk too much."
She smiled. "Aww, don't be so hard on yourself. I think it's kind of cute."
And so was she, with her narrow little pixie face and sharp cheekbones. He'd read about blue-black hair in books, but he'd never seen it on anyone before, until now.
Maybe it wasn't such a disaster after all.
"I'm Henrik," he said, and held his hand out across the bar.
"I know," she said, smiling, and took his hand. She had dimples in her cheeks. "I heard you earlier, remember? I'm Thea."
"Thea." He shook her hand, then faked a resigned sigh. "Are you ever going to let me forget that?"
She looked startled, then thoughtful, as he castigated himself-- it sounded like he expected something, for God's sake, and he didn't, except maybe he sort of did.
"I don't know," she said, surprising him. "We'll see how you behave, won't we?"
--
On the way home that night, he gave David his twenty dollars.
"Hey," David said, holding up the bill. "I thought she shot you down?"
"Sherri did," Henrik said. He thought of Thea's phone number in his back pocket, and smiled.