After Closing

The next forty-five minutes go by slower than you expected.

You stay on the same stool and keep working on the water Mia gave you. By now, the buzz from earlier has faded considerably, leaving you mostly tired and aware of how late it is.

The bar slowly empties around you. A few groups leave, stools open up, and the constant noise gradually dies down. Mia keeps working through all of it, bouncing between customers, cleaning glasses, and starting to close down her section.

Every once in a while, she looks over at you.

Every time she catches you looking back, she smiles.

Eventually, Mia walks over while wiping down the counter in front of you.

“You actually stayed,” Mia says.

“You told me forty-five minutes,” you reply.

“I know,” Mia says. “I just wasn’t completely convinced you’d make it.”

“You thought I was gonna disappear again?” you ask.

“You’ve already done it once tonight,” Mia replies.

“And I came back,” you say.

“Eventually,” Mia replies with a grin.

You look around the mostly empty bar. “How much longer?” you ask.

Mia glances toward the other end of the counter. “Like five minutes,” Mia replies. “I just have to finish a couple things and clock out.”

“I’ve made it this far,” you say.

“I’m proud of you,” Mia replies.

“Thanks,” you say. “It’s been really difficult.”

“I can tell,” Mia says.

She takes your empty water glass and starts to walk away before looking back at you.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Mia says.

“I won’t,” you reply.

“Good,” Mia says.

She disappears through a door behind the bar.

You pull out your phone while you wait. There isn’t much worth looking at, but it gives you something to do besides sitting alone at the bar watching employees clean.

A few minutes later, the door behind the counter opens again.

You look up.

Mia comes back out wearing a jacket over the black crop top she had been wearing all night. It’s an oversized dark denim jacket, faded enough to look broken in rather than new, with the sleeves hanging a little long around her wrists. She wears it open, and the loose fit gives her a completely different vibe from the bartender you’ve been watching all night. Behind the bar, everything about her seemed deliberately put together to get attention. Now she looks casual and comfortable, like she threw on her favorite jacket the second her shift ended and stopped worrying about how she looked. Her hair is still messy and half-up, her hoops are still in, and the combination of the oversized jacket and her relaxed expression somehow makes her even prettier. For the first time tonight, she doesn’t really look like the hot bartender anymore. She just looks like Mia.

She catches you staring at her.

“What are you looking at?” Mia asks with a smile.

“You,” you reply.

Mia glances down at herself before looking back at you. “Is the jacket really that exciting?” Mia asks.

“No,” you reply with a laugh. “You just look different now.”

“Different good or different bad?” Mia asks.

“Good,” you reply. “More relaxed, I guess.”

“That’s because I’m finally off work,” Mia says. “I don’t have to pretend I enjoy making vodka sodas anymore.”

“You seemed pretty happy earlier,” you say.

“I had something entertaining to look at,” Mia replies.

“Oh, really?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Mia says with a grin. “Some guy spent half my shift staring at my ass. It was pretty funny.”

“Sounds like a creep,” you reply.

“A little,” Mia says. “He made up for it eventually.”

“How?” you ask.

Mia pauses before answering, and her teasing smile softens. “He told me I had pretty eyes,” Mia says. “And that was actually really sweet.”

She comes around from behind the bar and walks toward you.

“Alright,” Mia says. “I’m free.”

You stand from the stool.

“Congratulations,” you reply.

“Thank you,” Mia says. “It was a difficult journey.”

You laugh and follow her toward the entrance.

Outside, the parking lot is considerably quieter than it was when you and Steve left earlier. There are only a handful of cars left, with most of the spaces around the building empty.

Mia pulls her jacket a little closer around herself as the cooler air hits her.

“So, what’s the plan?” Mia asks.

You point across the parking lot. “My truck’s over there,” you reply. “We can hang out for a little bit if you want.”

Mia looks toward your truck and then back at you.

“At your truck?” Mia asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Just hang out. Talk.”

She gives you a teasing look.

“I’m learning to be very specific with you,” you add.

“Good,” Mia says with a laugh. “You’re learning.”

You walk across the parking lot together.

When you reach your truck, you lean back against the side of it. Mia stands beside you for a moment before leaning against it too, leaving a comfortable amount of space between you.

For the first few seconds, neither of you says anything.

It feels strangely different now.

Inside the bar, there was always something happening around you. Customers interrupted. Music played. Mia had drinks to make and people to deal with. Even when you were talking, she was working.

Now it’s just the two of you standing beside your truck in a mostly empty parking lot.

Mia turns her head toward you.

“You’re quieter out here,” Mia says.

“So are you,” you reply.

“I’ve been talking to drunk people for the last eight hours,” Mia says. “I’m enjoying not having to yell.”

“I’m not drunk,” you say.

“Not anymore,” Mia replies.

“You really were keeping track, weren’t you?” you ask.

“Kind of my job,” Mia says. “Plus, I wasn’t about to hang out with you if you were wasted.”

“Fair,” you reply.

Mia looks out across the parking lot for a second before glancing back at you.

“Alright, John, tell me something about yourself,” Mia says.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Anything,” Mia replies. “I know you like beer, hoop earrings, lip gloss, brown eyes, and my ass. That’s basically your entire biography right now.”

“You really like bringing up the ass thing,” you say.

“Because you made it really easy,” Mia replies.

“I also complimented your face,” you point out.

Mia’s expression softens again. “You did,” Mia says. “And that was sweet. I wasn’t expecting that from you after watching you stare at my ass for three hours.”

“It wasn’t three hours,” you reply.

“It was a lot,” Mia says.

“Whatever,” you reply with a laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“How old are you?” Mia asks.

“I’m twenty-three,” you reply. “You?”

“Twenty-four,” Mia says.

“Okay, so basically the same age,” you reply.

“Pretty much,” Mia says. “I was wondering.”

“What did you think?” you ask.

“Like twenty-three, twenty-four,” Mia replies. “I was pretty close.”

“You nailed it,” you say.

“I’m good at my job,” Mia says.

“Guessing people’s ages is part of bartending?” you ask.

“You’d be surprised how often people make me guess,” Mia replies. “And there is absolutely no correct answer when a woman asks you that question.”

“Twenty-one,” you say.

Mia laughs. “Exactly,” Mia replies. “You’re learning.”

“What else?” you ask.

“What do you do?” Mia asks.

“I work in engineering,” you reply.

“Engineering?” Mia asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Mechanical stuff mostly. Design work, manufacturing, figuring out why something isn’t working the way it’s supposed to.”

Mia nods. “So you’re actually smart,” Mia says.

“I didn’t say that,” you reply.

“You’re an engineer,” Mia says.

“I work in engineering,” you correct her.

“That sounds like something an engineer says when he wants me to tell him he’s smart,” Mia replies.

You laugh. “I promise I wasn’t fishing for that,” you say.

“Sure,” Mia says.

“What about you?” you ask. “You just bartend?”

“Mostly right now,” Mia replies. “I’ve been here about two years.”

“Two years?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Mia says. “Which is long enough to know way too much about drunk people.”

“You like it?” you ask.

“Most nights,” Mia replies. “The money can be good, my coworkers are fun, and I actually like talking to people. You just get some fucking weird ones.”

“I can imagine,” you say.

“No, you can’t,” Mia replies.

“That bad?” you ask.

“Last month, a guy asked me if I believed in love at first sight,” Mia says.

“That’s not that weird,” you reply.

“I said no, and he told me he’d walk past me again,” Mia says.

You laugh.

“No way,” you say.

“He actually walked away, circled the entire bar, and came back,” Mia says.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“I told him it still wasn’t working,” Mia replies.

You laugh. “That’s fucked up,” you say.

“He tipped me twenty bucks,” Mia says. “So I guess everybody won.”

“Maybe it worked on him,” you say.

“Apparently,” Mia replies.

You both laugh before the conversation naturally moves on.

“What do you listen to?” Mia asks. “Music-wise.”

“Everything,” you reply.

Mia immediately rolls her eyes. “Don’t give me that answer,” Mia says.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Because everybody says they listen to everything,” Mia replies. “Nobody actually means everything.”

“I actually do, though,” you say. “Country, rock, R&B, pop. Pretty much whatever sounds good.”

“Okay,” Mia says. “Country?”

“Definitely,” you reply.

“Alright,” Mia says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Now you’re doing better.”

“You like country?” you ask.

“I love country,” Mia replies.

“Like actual country or pop with a cowboy hat?” you ask.

Mia turns toward you with an offended expression. “Be careful,” Mia says. “You’re about to lose all those points you earned.”

“I’m asking,” you reply.

“Yes, actual country,” Mia says. “I like newer stuff too, but I grew up listening to country.”

“Alright, who do you like?” you ask.

“George Strait, obviously,” Mia replies. “Alan Jackson, Brooks & Dunn. I like Cody Johnson a lot too. Morgan Wallen, Lainey Wilson. Stuff like that.”

“Okay,” you say. “That’s solid.”

“Solid?” Mia asks. “That’s all I get?”

“It’s good,” you reply.

“Who do you listen to?” Mia asks.

“A lot of the same,” you reply. “Cody Johnson, Thomas Rhett, Chris Stapleton. But I’ll listen to pretty much anything. Country is probably what I listen to the most, though.”

“See, you should’ve led with that instead of ‘everything,’” Mia says.

“But I do listen to everything,” you reply.

“Fine,” Mia says. “I believe you now.”

“Thank you,” you say.

“You’re welcome,” Mia replies. “That was very difficult for me.”

The conversation keeps moving from there.

“Alright, favorite movie?” Mia asks.

“I don’t know if I can pick one,” you reply. “I watch a lot of movies.”

“That’s another bullshit answer,” Mia says.

“It’s not,” you reply. “I like pretty much everything there too. Action, comedy, horror, older movies, newer stuff.”

“So apparently your entire personality is just liking everything,” Mia says.

“I’m easy to please,” you reply.

“Apparently,” Mia says. “I like horror movies.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Mia replies. “Even the shitty ones. Sometimes especially the shitty ones.”

“Okay, I can respect that,” you say.

“Good,” Mia replies. “I was really worried.”

You laugh.

“What about food?” Mia asks.

“Mexican,” you reply. “Easy.”

“Okay, finally an immediate answer,” Mia says. “Same.”

“See? We’re doing pretty good.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Mia replies.

The conversation keeps moving, and after a while you realize you’ve stopped thinking about what you’re supposed to say next.

You just talk.

Mia asks where you’d travel if you could leave tomorrow, and you tell her you’d probably want to see somewhere you’ve never been rather than go back to somewhere familiar. She tells you she wants to travel more too, especially somewhere she can actually explore instead of spending the whole trip sitting around. That turns into both of you talking about places you’ve been, places you want to see, and the kinds of vacations you’d actually enjoy.

Eventually, the conversation circles back to the bar.

“You want another good one?” Mia asks.

“Obviously,” you reply.

“This guy came in a few months ago with a girl,” Mia says. “Clearly a first date. He’s spending the entire night trying to impress her, talking about his money, his job, his car. Just nonstop.”

“Sounds fun,” you say.

“Oh, it was painful,” Mia replies. “But the entire night, he keeps talking about his Lamborghini.”

“Of course,” you say.

“Shows her pictures and everything,” Mia continues. “He’s telling her how fast it is, how much it cost, all this shit.”

“Did he actually have one?” you ask.

Mia smiles.

“That’s the best part,” Mia replies. “They leave, and I happen to be outside taking something to the dumpster. I watch this man walk across the parking lot and get into the passenger seat of a Corolla.”

You start laughing.

“No fucking way,” you say.

“I watched it happen,” Mia replies.

“Maybe the Lamborghini was in the shop,” you say.

“That’s what I thought,” Mia replies. “Or maybe his mom needed it that night.”

You laugh harder.

“Did the girl go with him?” you ask.

“Nope,” Mia replies. “She came back inside and ordered another drink.”

“Smart girl,” you say.

“Very smart,” Mia replies.

“Did you tell her you saw the Corolla?” you ask.

“I didn’t have to,” Mia replies. “She saw it too.”

You shake your head.

“I don’t think I could do your job,” you say.

“You’d be terrible,” Mia replies.

“Why?” you ask.

“You’d just stand there staring at all the bartenders,” Mia says.

“Only one of them,” you reply.

Mia turns toward you.

She tries not to smile.

It doesn’t work.

“That was smooth,” Mia says.

“I have my moments,” you reply.

“Occasionally,” Mia says.

The conversation keeps going, and at some point you realize how much you’ve actually learned about her. Mia is twenty-four, has been bartending for about two years, loves country music, likes horror movies even when they’re terrible, and can apparently tell bar stories all night if you keep asking. She knows you’re twenty-three, work in engineering, listen to almost anything but especially country, and have a habit of turning simple questions into arguments when you think you’re right.

More importantly, neither of you seems to be running out of things to talk about.

After a while, you realize you aren’t really thinking about the bartender anymore.

You’re not waiting for Mia to turn around so you can look at her shorts. You’re not trying to figure out whether she’s flirting with you.

You’re just talking to her.

And you like her.

Mia notices you looking at her.

“What?” Mia asks.

“I was just thinking,” you reply.

“Dangerous,” Mia says.

“Very,” you reply.

“What were you thinking about?” Mia asks.

“That you’re fun to talk to,” you reply.

Mia smiles.

“See?” Mia asks. “There’s more to me than my ass.”

“You really wanted to prove that point,” you say.

“I did,” Mia replies.

“Consider it proven,” you say.

“Good,” Mia says. “But you can still like my ass.”

“I wasn’t planning on stopping,” you reply.

Mia laughs.

“I walked right into that one,” Mia says.

“Pretty much,” you reply.

She shifts beside you, turning slightly more toward you.

“So why did you almost leave?” Mia asks.

You look at her.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“You already left once,” Mia says. “Then you came back. So obviously you stood out here and thought about it.”

You laugh quietly. “Yeah,” you reply.

“How long?” Mia asks.

“Not that long,” you say.

“Were you deciding if I was worth walking back inside for?” Mia asks.

“I wasn’t deciding whether you were worth it,” you reply. “I was deciding whether I should go back in.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Mia asks.

You hesitate.

For a second, Kelly crosses your mind.

You don’t really know how to explain that situation to a woman you’ve known for less than an hour without turning this conversation into something completely different.

So you don’t.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “I almost talked myself out of it.”

Mia watches you for a moment.

“But you didn’t,” Mia says.

“No,” you reply.

“Good,” Mia says.

“You would’ve been sad,” you say.

“A little,” Mia admits.

“Still admitting it,” you say.

“Don’t make me take it back,” Mia says.

“You can’t,” you reply.

“I absolutely can,” Mia says.

“Nope,” you reply.

Mia laughs and bumps her shoulder lightly against yours.

“You’re annoying,” Mia says.

“You gave me your number,” you reply.

“I make mistakes,” Mia says.

“And then came out here with me,” you say.

Mia looks at you.

“Yeah,” Mia says. “I did.”

The joking fades for a moment before you look over at her.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask.

“That depends,” Mia replies. “You’ve had mixed results tonight.”

You laugh. “You want to go out with me?” you ask.

Mia looks at you.

“Go out with you?” Mia asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Like an actual date.”

That catches her slightly off guard. Her teasing expression disappears for just a second before a smile slowly spreads across her face.

“An actual date?” Mia asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Dinner, drinks, whatever. Somewhere where you aren’t working and I’m not sitting at a bar staring at you.”

“You’d probably still stare at me,” Mia says.

“Probably,” you admit.

Mia laughs.

“You’re sweet,” Mia says.

“Is that a yes?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Mia replies. “That’s a yes.”

You smile.

Mia catches it immediately.

“Look at you,” Mia says. “You’re all happy now.”

“I got a yes,” you reply.

“You did,” Mia says. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“I’ll try,” you say.

“We’ll figure out when tomorrow,” Mia says. “My schedule changes, so I need to look at it.”

“Sounds good,” you reply.

You keep talking after that, neither of you seeming particularly interested in ending the night even though it keeps getting later.

Eventually, Mia checks her phone.

“Shit,” Mia says. “I should probably go.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “It’s late.”

“Very late,” Mia says.

She pushes herself away from the truck, and you do the same.

For the first time since coming outside, you end up standing directly in front of each other.

Neither of you says anything immediately.

Mia is close enough now that you can smell the faint trace of her perfume underneath everything else from the bar. The oversized denim jacket hangs loosely around her, her hands tucked partly into the long sleeves. A few strands of dark hair have fallen loose around her face, and one of her hoops catches the parking lot light when she looks up at you.

Her big brown eyes settle on yours.

Then they briefly drop toward your mouth.

Your eyes do the same.

Mia notices.

She doesn’t tease you this time.

For the first time all night, neither of you seems to have a joke ready.

You’re standing close enough that it would be easy.

You could kiss her.