Page 3 of Fall Apart

“Well bourbon, neat, and a glass of water. Thanks!” I hand my card over to her to start a tab, noting her raised eyebrows. Why does everyone act surprised the 5’3” blonde likes bourbon? Sure, I love me a mimosa or tiki drink. But sometimes, this is what I want. I just need to burn the tips of my nerves off. Just ateensybit.

“Alright. I like your style.” She nods before turning to the back bar to throw my card in the glass with the other tab cards. My metal card hits the bottom with a nice little clink and I hear a laugh from her.

A few songs later and I can feel my worries start to drift off. Who needs Johnathan? And why should I care what my mother thinks about me? And let’s not even get started with Dad. We were close once, but somewhere along the way we grew apart. It was especiallybad after Charlotte took more of their time when she got sick and was in and out of the hospital. I know she needed their time, but so did I and I still want to fix that chasm that grew between all of us. I just don’t know where to start. At least Meredith Frank actually has an opinion about me, unlike him. It’s not my problem I don’t want to live up to her expectations, meet a nice boy in finance with a trust fund, and get married and pop out 2.5 kids. Johnathan was exactly who she wanted me to end up with. He was respectable, smart, and a safe choice. And if she had her way, we would havepatched things up,stayed together, and done exactly that.

Zero chance, Mother.

If it was up to her, I’d have been defined by the man I was with just like her. And I’ve worked so hard to do things on my own. Instead of working for my dad, I got my own internship. I worked for a great startup on the West Coast. Sure, I did come back home to Ohio to work at another company, but I wanted to be closer to my friends and sister. And the opportunity was in fact a career advancement with some big, remote working perks.

I just want to be me. My own person, living my own authentic life.

The problem is I don’t exactly know what that means any more. I always wanted to make my own life, but I was also with Johnathan for so long that I was ready to settle down and do what I thought was expected of me. It just felt like that was natural next step. We were even shopping for engagement rings, even though he hadn’t actually asked me yet. Months removed from that now, I don’t know if that’s what I want any more. I don’t know if that’s ever what I really wanted. What I know for sure is that I don’t want to be defined by someone else.

An hour goesby while I watch the crowd, enjoying the distraction from thinking about the life I thought I wanted, listening to the music on the juke box, and letting the stress of the travel day go by. When the bartender comes back with my second round, I feel a cold breeze drift through the bar, sending a chill up my legs through my tights. I turn to see the door open and watch as a tall, imposing figure walks in.

Just looking at him, I can feel the hair on the back of my neck stand. His hair is a dark, inky brown, tousled on top but pushed to one side. Below the shell of his ear I can make out a couple tattoos on his neck coming above the collar of his worn black work jacket. The features of his face are striking and defined, from his high cheek bones to his square jaw.

Jesus. Where did this guy come from?

I’ve always gone after the pretty, preppy boys. The ones I’d meet at my fancy private school or at my parents’ parties or country club. The ones like my ex. But on myTour de Lizzyof no strings attached fun, I’ve never come across someone like this guy. Yeah. There was that cowboy in Wyoming. But this guy is different. He’s rugged, imposing, and raw.

He looks right at me, his brow furrowing and his jaw tightening into a scowl before he looks past me to the bartender, walking right towards us. He looks younger, maybe in his late twenties? But there’s still something so intense and masculine about him.

“Hey Mandy,” he says to the bartender while organizing a stack of coasters, “I’ll take the usual.”

“Sure thing, babe,” she says, heading down the bar towards the fridge. He takes his jacket off, folding it neatly and laying it on the bar revealing a plain black t-shirt that hugs him in all the right places.

“What are you doing here?” His deep, irritated voice catches me off guard as he continues to look down the bar watching Mandy, facing away from me. I look around, noticing no one is within ear shot of us in the loud bar.

“Are you talking to me?” I look to him, but he’s still watching Mandy and waiting for his drink, drumming his fingers along the wooden counter. I watch the way the corded muscles of his tattooed forearms tick with each motion of his hand.

He lowers his head, letting out a long sigh before turning to me. His dark green eyes are so piercing as he looks right into mine. He does look young, but at the same time I get a glimpse of something behind those eyes that looks soulful and worn. I swallow hard and my mouth go dry as his eyes still rake over me. It takes all my willpower to hold his gaze and not rake my eyes over his body.

Who the hell is this guy and what’s his problem with me?

“Yeah. I am talking to you. What are you doing here?” His tone is slightly less irritated and I can see one corner of his mouth quirk up into a playful smirk.

“I’m trying to enjoy my bourbon without being bothered. What about you?” I lift my glass to my lips, taking a long slow sip as I maintain this unusually intense eye contact. He’s certainly handsome and confident. And he knows it. I’ll give him that.

He huffs a laugh as he rests against the bar, propping himself up on his elbow. He leans toward me, leaving almost no space between us. “I’m waiting for the pretty little tourist princess to get out of my seat so I can enjoy my beer when it gets here.”

Pretty little tourist? His seat?

Yep, he’s definitely cocky.

I let my eyes run over him, admiring how the t-shirt hugs his toned arms and reveals more of his tattoos. He could certainly be a fundistractiontonight while I have the condo to myself before the others get to town tomorrow.

OK. I can play this game.

I roll my shoulders and flick my ponytail back, flashing a playful grin at him and looking at him with my best doe eyes. “Oh. I didn’t realize you could reserve seats here. Silly me.” I mockingly clutch at my heart. “I’m such atouristafter all.”

His scowl disappears and lifts back into a smirk. Through his five o’clock shadow I can see his dimples now, softening the intensity of his striking features, making him somehow even more irresistibly delicious.

“Well, for a pretty littletouristlike you,” he pauses, his grin widening, “I guess I can make an exception. You can keep it.” He turns and walks away, returning with another bar stool and sliding it right next to me.

The air between us already feels charged, buzzing and heavy with tension as our eyes linger on each other. It feels like an eternity passes before Mandy returns with his beer.

“Here you go, babe.” She leaves the stubby yellow labeled beer on a coaster before heading back to the other end of the bar. He tips his chin to her and grabs the beer.

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