Page 8 of The Blue Rose
Boozy Books is everything I’ve been hearing about and more. The moment you walk in, the walls are coated in a deep green. A subtle forest hidden within the depths of color that seem to suck up all excess light and sound, creating a muted but welcoming space. Music straight out of a fantasy novel flows throughout the room, transporting every listener to their favorite far away place with a simple crescendo. There's a steampunk vibe, pulling the whole bar together. Random pieces of art decorate the walls, from genre bending paintings and steamy sculptures, even what looks like handmade crafts from local artists and writers. In the corner sits a little book nook with hundreds, if not thousands, of different books from every genre you could think of, a literal library in the heart of the bar. There are two three-piece couches placed in an L-shape away from the bookshelves, and five bean bags on the floor. There is a little coffee table in the shape of a map in the middle, with several papasan chairs scattered about. Nearly every seat is taken, several people, unashamed in their reading preference, drape themselves throughout and take up the space. Lost in whatever story they have fallen into.
There’s no dress code, but it’s obvious Jess and I missed the memo for tonight. Readers wearing jewelry and accessories of their favorite characters cosplay in the various nooks around the bar. Acting out their favorite scenes in the safety of a space that welcomes everyone. The bar itself is towards the back of the building, offering drinks based on traditionally and indie published books from the past decade. There are several high top tables, giving people a place to rest between chapters, and a few open seats surrounding the high-top bar.
“Wow…” Jessica says, startling me from my admiration. “I can see why you wanted to come here. Where should we start first? Books or booze?”
We look at each other saying, “Booze-” at the same time, laughing as we head towards the open seats around the bar.
The bartender notices us right away and addresses me, “What can I get you tonight?”
Jess grabs my arm “We will have two moscow mules, please.”
Giving me a funny look, he looks at the space around me, and he shrugs, “Right away,” he says walking away, showing us the full extent of his Fae costume. Coming back a few minutes later, placing both drinks in front of me.
I grab one for myself, pushing the other towards Jessica, and earning another weird look from the bartender.What is this dude's issue? Why does he keep giving me weird looks?
Ignoring him completely, I sit back in the chair and start sipping my drink. Looking around at the patrons around me, I start to feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise, my arms breaking out in goosebumps. I feel a set of eyes searing through me, making me rub the back of my neck. I subtly crack my neck, searching for the eyes watching me and they zero in on a guy in the corner. From the shadows I see a smirk forming on his lips. He stands up, the low light of the bar still giving him a menacinglook as he stalks towards me, knocking the breath from my lungs.
He stands well above six feet, sandy blond hair styled, in an intentionally messy way. His eyes are piercing green in the lazily strobing lights around us, but there is a darkness in them that he hides behind well. Too bad I’m familiar with hiding, I know where to look to see through the bullshit. His darkness draws me to him like a moth to a flame. He has a build like one I imagine Hades would have, and if he wanted to he could destroy me and break me in half, without breaking a sweat, and I would gladly let him. He is wearing a white shirt with a black leather jacket over it, long dark fitted jeans and black laced boots. He is dripping in sin and fuck, do I want to do sinful things with this man. I imagine him bending me over, plowing into me, stealing my very life with his cock. I want to sit on that perfect face and watch him feast.
He stands behind the chair next to mine, and as he takes off his jacket the first thing I notice is the orca jumping out of the blue waves on his right forearm. My eyes zero in on it, and I speak without thinking. “You know killer whales are the most deadly animal in the ocean? They even hunt great whites.”
He looks at me with a quizzical face, making me look away. He doesn’t speak, instead places both arms on the back of his chair, giving me a better view of all the ink he has.
There’s a black and white grim reaper holding a scythe in a cloak on his left bicep that morphs into blue roses leading all the way to his wrist. The roses remind me of my paintings, dark, but different shades of blue.Something we already have in common it seems.The reaper speaks for itself, a messenger of death, or death itself.I wonder which one it means to him?On the bottom of his wrist, there are the roman numerals MMII, but I’m not sure what those numbers mean.
My body isn’t connecting with my brain, because I find myself reaching out to touch the roses. Before my fingers land on his skin he speaks, voice low and husky. “The deadliest you say?”
I look up to see him with an amused smirk watching my hand almost touch him, and snatch it back, placing it in my lap, embarrassment rising to my cheeks. I nod my head too mortified with myself to look at him. I know he’s looking at me. I can feel his stare burning into the side of my head.Why would you do that, Serena? You don’t just go touching hot men because you feel like it.
“You know if you wanted to touch it all you had to do was ask.”
My head snaps to meet his eyes, eyes I’m just now noticing are a piercing green, and when the light hits them the right way, spots of blue show, making them look almost teal. “Beautiful.” I whisper.
“Sorry,” I shake my head, not able to tear myself away from his piercing gaze.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, and to answer your question from earlier, yes I did know.”
Confused, I ask, “Know what?”
“The whale,” he chuckles.
If I wasn’t horrified before, I am now. This poor man probably thinks I’m crazy, trying to touch him, then forgetting what we were even talking about because I’m literally getting lost in his eyes. I take a long sip of my Moscow mule, making myself shut up.
“You know you have beautiful eyes, too.” Straw still in my mouth, I turn to look at him, mouth slightly parted. “They remind me of the north sea, alluring, but dangerous.”
I’ve heard stories of the north sea, only the bravest go out there. After seeing the movieFrozen 2,the north sea became big on TikTok, and videos kept popping up on my feed. I wentdown the rabbit hole, and it is in fact dangerous, terrifying, but so beautiful. So many have lost their lives treading those waters.
He clears his throat, “I have more tattoos, then just the ones on my arms.”
My eyes light up. “Really? Can I see?”
“They’re covered right now, but I’ll show them to you, one day.”
“One day?”
“I promise,” there is something sinister, but tempting behind that promise. It has me wanting to ask more, but something tells me to leave it at that.
“I don’t have any tattoos, I want one, but I just don’t know what I’d get.” I create art all day long, making beautiful pieces for myself and clients. Getting to hang them up and take them down is different then choosing one piece and it being on your body forever.
