Of course you'll watch the door

Even if you didn't want to be a gentleman, even if you weren't trying to be nice, and even if you really hated the woman in front of you, you wouldn't wish the odors coming from the women's room on your worst enemy. You tell Claire that of course you'll watch the door for her. You poke your head into the men's room to make sure it's empty, then gesture Claire to come in. Fortunately, the bathroom is reasonably clean, and it's early enough that it doesn't look like the single toilet stall has taken too much collateral damage.

"I'll be right here if you need anything," you say, though you aren't really sure what a grown woman would need from you in the bathroom. You're pretty sure she's done this once or twice before.

Claire vanishes into bathroom, grateful to be away from the foul alternative. You're all set to tell any toilet-seeking patrons to buzz off or at least wait a couple minutes, but fortunately it doesn't look like there's much demand for the facilities at the moment. Even the lineup for the women's room seems to have died down. Maybe word was getting around about just what had happened in there. A couple minutes later Claire pulls open the door.

"Just gotta wash my hands," she says. "Um, I'm decent if you want to come in."

You look around to be sure no one is going to suddenly walk in and question why you're in the bathroom with this woman - you don't want anyone to get the wrong idea, of course - then you head in. You notice that there is a latch on the door, so Claire could have just as easily just locked the door until she was done. You've been rendered redundant by a couple of screws and a metal rod.

"Thanks for watching the door for me," Claire says as she dries her hands with a paper towel. "They're out of soap. Kind of gross."

She throws the paper towel into the trash and walks over to you.

"Henry, I'm having a really good time tonight," she says, leaning closer. "I don't know if it's the bar - I'll have to come here more often, or if it's the beer, or if it's the company, but I'm having a really good time. Tara's one of the only people I knew when I first moved to town, and while she's great, I always feel like a third wheel when we hang out and it's just her and Ben and me."

You tell her that you often feel the same way. You guess you're not the only one they rope into tagging along with them.

"Anyway, thanks for keeping me company," she goes on. "And for being cute, and a good guy. And being here. And listening to me ramble at you in the men's bathroom."

She leans in again, as if to hug you, but slips. Instead of a light, friendly hug, she falls into you. You embrace her to stop her from toppling both of you to the ground. Or, you gather she wanted it to look like she slipped, but maybe the **** is catching up to her, because the move was pretty obvious. She leans up and plants a light kiss on your lips.