Go Back Inside

You stand outside for another few seconds, looking between your car and the front window of the bar.

Then you turn around.

Fuck it.

You head back toward the entrance and pull the door open.

The music and noise immediately surround you again. A few people have left since you and Steve walked out, but the bar is still busy enough that nobody pays much attention to you coming back in.

Almost nobody.

The bartender is behind the counter when you walk through the door. She’s putting a bottle back on the shelf when she glances toward the entrance and sees you.

Her eyes settle on you.

Then she smiles.

It’s the same knowing smile she’s been giving you all night, except this time it feels a little different. You already paid. You already left. Your friend is gone.

There aren’t many reasons for you to be back.

You walk over and take the same stool you were sitting on before.

The bartender finishes what she’s doing and makes her way toward you. Her long dark hair is pulled into a messy half-up, half-down style, with loose pieces falling around her face and the rest hanging over her shoulders. A pair of hoop earrings catches the light when she moves. Between those, her big brown eyes surrounded by smoky makeup, and her full glossy lips, she somehow looks even prettier now that you’re actually paying attention to more than what she’s wearing.

“Well, look who came back,” the bartender says.

“Yeah,” you reply.

She stops across from you and rests her hands against the bar.

“Forget something?” the bartender asks.

You look at her.

“No,” you reply.

Her smile gets bigger.

“No?” the bartender asks.

“Nope,” you say.

She holds your eyes for a second, and you can tell from her expression that she expected a completely different answer.

“Wow,” the bartender says with a laugh. “You really missed that one.”

“Missed what?” you ask.

“I ask if you forgot something, you say my number,” the bartender replies. “That was an easy one, babe.”

You laugh as you realize it. “Yeah, that would’ve been better,” you say.

“Way better,” the bartender replies. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t take it after you left without asking for my number the first time.”

“You wanted me to ask?” you ask.

She gives you a look like the answer should already be obvious. “I’ve been flirting with you all night,” the bartender replies. “What did you think I was doing?”

“I noticed,” you say.

“And then you left,” the bartender replies.

“I did,” you admit.

She gives you a small pout, although the amusement in her eyes makes it obvious she’s playing it up. “I was a little sad,” the bartender admits. “I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

You smile. “You were sad?” you ask.

“A little,” the bartender replies. “Don’t get too excited about it.”

“I’m a little excited about it,” you admit.

“Of course you are,” the bartender says.

“I came back, though,” you reply.

Her teasing expression softens slightly as she looks at you. “Yeah,” the bartender says. “You did.”

You hold each other’s eyes for a moment, and her smile slowly returns.

“So I guess you redeemed yourself a little,” the bartender adds.

“Plus, you were staring at me all night,” the bartender says.

There it is.

“I wasn’t that bad,” you say.

She raises her eyebrows.

“Babe,” the bartender says. “You were staring at my ass every time I turned around.”

You laugh and shake your head.

“Alright,” you reply. “Maybe I was.”

“Maybe?” the bartender asks.

“Fine,” you say. “I was.”

“I know,” the bartender replies.

She looks at you for a second, then deliberately turns around beside the bar.

“I mean, I get it,” the bartender says, glancing back over her shoulder.

The distressed black denim is already tight across her round ass. She slides one hand down, cups the underside of one cheek through the shorts, and lifts it slightly before letting it drop back into place. The frayed hem shifts with the movement, showing off the lower curve of her cheek before settling again.

“You’ve got a point,” you admit.

She laughs and turns back toward you. “At least you’re honest now,” the bartender says.

“You didn’t seem to mind,” you say.

“I don’t,” the bartender replies. “But there’s a lot more to me than just my ass.”

“I know,” you say.

She gives you a skeptical look. “You know?” the bartender asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Interesting,” the bartender says, drawing the word out slightly. “Because you don’t actually know anything about me.”

“Not yet,” you reply.

That gets a smile out of her. “Better answer,” the bartender says.

You get the feeling she’s not really talking about her body anymore. Whatever she’s looking for from you, staring at her ass clearly isn’t going to be enough to get it.

“That’s part of why I came back,” you say.

“We’ll see,” the bartender replies, still smiling.

Her smile widens.

“Someone got confident,” the bartender says.

“Maybe I had a couple beers,” you reply.

“I noticed,” the bartender says. “You want some water?”

“Probably a good idea,” you reply.

“Very responsible,” the bartender says.

She turns away to grab you a glass. Your eyes immediately follow her.

The distressed black denim shorts sit high and tight around her hips, hugging her round ass as she walks away. When she bends slightly to grab a glass from underneath the counter, the frayed hems ride higher against her thighs, exposing the lower curves of her thick ass cheeks.

She straightens and turns around.

You don’t get your eyes back to her face quickly enough.

Again.

She catches you.

Again.

The bartender laughs as she fills the glass.

“Seriously?” the bartender asks.

“You already said you don’t mind,” you reply.

“I don’t,” the bartender says. “I’m just impressed by how little effort you’re making to hide it now.”

“What’s the point?” you ask.

“Fair,” the bartender replies.

She puts the water in front of you.

“There you go, babe,” the bartender says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

You take a drink while she stays across from you.

For the first time all night, you actually have a chance to talk to her without Steve sitting beside you.

“So what’s your name?” you ask.

She laughs.

“Oh, no,” the bartender replies.

“No?” you ask.

“You stared at me all night, left without asking for my number, came all the way back in here, and now you think I’m just giving you my name?” the bartender asks.

“Usually that’s how introductions work,” you reply.

“Usually,” the bartender says. “But you already fucked up the easy version.”

“Alright,” you say with a laugh. “What do I have to do?”

She rests her elbows on the bar and studies you like she’s actually considering it.

“Hmm,” the bartender says. “Tell me something.”

“Something?” you ask.

“Why’d you come back?” the bartender asks.

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” you reply.

She tilts her head. “That’s it?” the bartender asks.

“And because you’re really pretty,” you add.

Her smile grows, but she still doesn’t give in. “Better,” the bartender says.

“And I wanted your number,” you continue.

“Much better,” the bartender replies.

“So do I get your name?” you ask.

“Not yet,” the bartender says.

“Geez,” you reply with a laugh.

“You have to work for it,” the bartender says.

“Alright. What else?” you ask.

She looks amused by how willingly you’re playing along.

“Tell me what you noticed first,” the bartender says.

You look at her.

“Your eyes,” you reply.

Her eyebrows rise. She clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. “My eyes?” the bartender asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. “They’re big and brown. They were the first thing I noticed when you came over.”

She watches you for a second, trying to decide whether you’re bullshitting her. “Really?” the bartender asks.

“Really,” you say.

“Huh,” the bartender says, looking a little more pleased than she probably meant to.

“Your lips were pretty close,” you add.

Her eyes narrow playfully. “My lips?” the bartender asks.

“Yeah,” you reply, glancing down at them. “The lip gloss is working for you.”

She smiles, which only draws more attention to them.“So my eyes were first, my lips were second…”

She pauses and waits for you to finish.

“What?” you ask.

“I’m just surprised,” the bartender replies. “After the show you’ve been putting on all night, I thought for sure you were going to say my ass.”

You laugh. “I said what I noticed first,” you reply. “I didn’t say your ass wasn’t noticed.”

She laughs. “There it is,” the bartender says.

“Trust me, your ass made the list,” you reply.

“Good save,” the bartender says.

“Wasn’t a save,” you reply. “You already caught me staring at it like six times.”

“More than six,” the bartender says mockingly.

“Then I think my opinion is pretty well documented,” you reply.

She laughs again, and one of her hoops moves against the side of her neck as she shakes her head. Your eyes follow it for a second.

“Those too,” you say.

“What?” the bartender asks.

You gesture toward her earrings. “The hoops,” you reply. “I’m a sucker for hoop earrings too.”

She reaches up and lightly touches one. “Are you?” the bartender asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“That’s oddly specific,” the bartender says.

“I know what I like,” you reply.

“Apparently,” the bartender says.

“Big brown eyes, glossy lips, hoops. You’re doing pretty good so far.” you chuckle.

She laughs, looking genuinely flattered now. “So far?” the bartender asks.

“I still don’t know your name,” you point out.

“Maybe you’re getting closer,” the bartender replies.

“I feel like I’ve earned at least a first name by now,” you say.

She pretends to think about it for another second before finally smiling and extending her hand across the bar.

“Alright,” the bartender says. “I’m Mia.”

You take her hand. “Mia,” you repeat.

“Mia,” she confirms. “And you are?”

“John,” you reply.

“John,” Mia repeats, looking at you as she says it. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” you ask. “We’ve been talking all night.”

“You didn’t know my name,” Mia replies. “Didn’t count.”

“Fair enough,” you say. “Nice to meet you, Mia.”

She keeps your hand in hers for just a moment longer before letting go.

“See?” you ask. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“For me?” Mia asks. “No. That was really easy.”

“You made me work for your first name,” you reply.

“And you did pretty good,” Mia says with a grin. “Don’t ruin it.”

Before you can answer, someone farther down the bar calls for her.

“Hold that thought,” Mia says.

She walks away.

You watch her go.

At this point, pretending otherwise would be ridiculous.

You drink some more water while she handles a couple customers. Every once in a while, she glances back toward you. Twice, you catch her looking directly at you before she turns back to whatever she’s doing.

You aren’t imagining this.

A few minutes later, she comes back.

“Still here?” Mia asks.

“You told me to hold that thought,” you reply.

“Good listener,” Mia says.

“Sometimes,” you reply.

She leans against the bar across from you.

“So,” Mia says. “Why’d you actually come back?”

You look at her.

“You want the honest answer?” you ask.

“Usually,” Mia replies.

“I thought you were flirting with me all night,” you say.

“Maybe I was,” Mia replies immediately.

You laugh.

“Alright,” you say. “That makes this easier.”

“What makes what easier?” Mia asks.

“Asking for your number,” you reply.

Her eyes stay on yours.

There’s a brief pause.

Then she smiles.

“There it is,” Mia says.

“You were waiting for that?” you ask.

“I was starting to wonder if I needed to write it on your forehead,” Mia replies.

“You could’ve just asked for mine,” you say.

“I could’ve,” Mia replies. “But watching you figure it out was more fun.”

“So now that I figured it out?” you ask.

She pretends to think about it. “I don’t know,” Mia says. “I made you work for my name. Giving you my number right after seems pretty easy.”

“You literally told me you were sad I left without asking for it,” you reply.

“Don’t use my own words against me,” Mia says.

“You said it,” you reply.

“I did,” Mia admits. “That doesn’t mean I’m making this easy for you.”

“Alright,” you say. “What do I have to do for the number?”

Mia studies you again.

“You really want it?” Mia asks.

“I came back, didn’t I?” you reply.

She holds your eyes for another second, making you wait.

“Good point,” Mia says.

She reaches underneath the counter and grabs her phone.

“Give me yours,” Mia says.

You pull out your phone and hand it to her.

She types her number into the contact under her name, then hands your phone back.

You look down.

There it is.

You look back up at her.

“See?” Mia asks. “You earned it.”

“Barely,” you reply.

“Don’t get cocky, babe,” Mia says.

“Too late,” you reply.

She laughs and takes her phone back.

You send her a quick text so she has your number.

Her phone buzzes in her hand.

She looks down at it, then back at you.

“Now I have your number in my phone too,” Mia says.

“Big moment,” you reply.

“Huge,” Mia says.

Someone calls for her again.

She sighs.

“I do unfortunately still have a job,” Mia says.

“I noticed,” you reply.

She starts to back away, but you stop her before she gets far.

“What time are you off?” you ask.

She pauses.

Her expression changes just slightly. Interested.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” Mia says, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of her glossy lips.

It takes you a second to realize exactly how your question sounded, and you immediately shake your head. “Oh, shit. No, sorry,” you say. “That’s not what I meant.”

Mia watches you for a second before giving you a small smile. “Good,” Mia says. “Because I’m not that easy.”

“I didn’t think you were,” you reply.

“Sorry,” you add. “I really didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t realize how that sounded until you said it.”

Mia studies your face for a moment, and you can tell she’s deciding whether she believes you.

“Okay,” Mia says. “Because I’m not going home with some random guy I just met. That’s not me.”

“I know,” you reply. “That came out wrong. I just meant maybe we could hang out for a little bit after you’re off, if you wanted to.”

Her expression relaxes, and the playful smile starts to return. “That’s different,” Mia says.

“Yeah,” you reply. “That’s what I meant.”

“Alright,” Mia says. “I’ll let you recover from that one.”

You laugh, relieved that you didn’t completely fuck up the conversation. “Thanks,” you say.

“So?” you ask.

“Give me about forty-five minutes,” Mia says.

You nod.

“I can do forty-five minutes,” you reply.

She smiles.

“Yeah?” Mia asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Then drink your water,” Mia says. “You’re not getting another beer from me.”

“You’re cutting me off?” you ask.

“I prefer the term taking care of my favorite customer,” Mia replies.

“I’ve been your favorite customer for like three hours,” you say.

“You’ve been my favorite customer since I caught you staring at my ass the first time,” Mia replies.

You laugh.

“That was quick,” you say.

“You have a cute face,” Mia replies with a shrug. “What can I say?”

That gets a smile out of you before you can stop it.

“Oh, look at that,” Mia says. “He blushes.”

“Fuck off,” you reply.

She laughs as she backs away.

“Forty-five minutes, babe,” Mia says. “Try not to disappear on me again.”

“I came back, didn’t I?” you ask.

“Exactly,” Mia replies.

She turns and heads toward another customer.

You watch her walk away, the tight black denim shifting across her ass with every step.

This time, when she glances back and catches you staring, you don’t look away.

She grins.

Neither does she.

You take another drink of water and settle onto the stool.

Less than an hour ago, you were standing outside deciding between going home and walking back through that door.

Now Mia’s number is in your phone, she’s more or less admitted she was flirting with you all night, and you’re waiting for her shift to end.

For better or worse, you definitely made your choice.