Warning: There is strong language right from the beginning!

Synopsis:
Alex had a deal with herself; to break gender norms. One such gender norm was that men seem to approach women first.

She was going to change that.

Her last serious relationship was two years ago. Deliberately. Especially after that horrendous break up. But now she might be ready to date again.

Only, she maybe shouldn't have picked the hottest guy she could find to test out her new personal pact and buy him a drink, when it was obvious he wasn't interested. Besides, he was way out of her league. But it's okay, she wouldn't see him again...

Until she does; while sat in a loud pub with a work colleague she spots him. She's shocked when he wants to talk.

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Chapter 1

"Oh, for fuck sake!" I grumbled as a passing car drove through a puddle and splashed me. I looked down at myself, just as a fellow walker on the path shot me a disgusted look, probably at my language. I didn't care. I was instantly hurdled into a bad mood. But I was glad to see I wasn't that wet, the water had mostly got my boots and-

"Shit!" I grumbled again. The reason I was mostly spared from the dirty puddle water was because the majority had splashed on my laptop bag. I had been carrying it in my hand as it had moments ago been hurting my shoulder. But I didn't hold much hope that the bag was waterproof.

I wiped it down as much as I could with my bare hands and hoped and prayed to a God that I wasn't even sure I believed in that the laptop tucked safely inside hadn't gotten wet itself.

I sighed and looked up to see a bar just a few feet away, right next to a rather lovely Mediterranean restaurant with a few bamboo plants outside the main entrance. I made a mental note to check it out one day. The bar itself was just as elegant - just lacking the plant-life - with a lovely bold sign in black and red which read; 'Da Vinci's', which looked quite new. I huffed and decided to go get a well-deserved drink and check my laptop was still working.

When I wandered in the door was a little too heavy, but I tried not to show how heavy I found it. I didn't want any men inside who could see, think I was weak and could take advantage. Afterwards, I just trudged up to the bar confidently. Fake it 'til you make it, I had heard once. It was my new motto in life.

"Excuse me," I said to the bar man. He was quite a good looking guy, with dark brown hair, a small stubble of a beard and wearing a white shirt and black trousers with a black waist-coat. Although a little too young for me and probably immature outside of work too. So I tried my hardest not to smile or stare too much and give him the wrong impression. I had a habit of attracting men who got the wrong impression.

But just as he moved to wander over to me, I saw a guy behind him that instantly caught my attention. He was handsome. Much more my type. Although he was undoubtedly way out of my league. His black raven hair short and slightly standing up, a little ruffled as if he'd run his hands through it in frustration, a strong masculine hand resting on his handsome clean shaven jaw, propping himself up as his elbow rested on the bar top and he slightly frowned at the laptop that was in front of him.

It suddenly felt a lot warmer in this bar than the first two seconds of walking in.

My attention went straight to his hand. It was a habit I had started doing lately. I was looking for a wedding ring. Nothing. That didn't mean he was single though. Not that he'd ever be interested in me.

"Hi, doll," replied the bar man, breaking my attention away from the devilish handsome man behind him. I was actually trying to will him to look up at me; I hoped if he look up I'd might be able to find out if he found me even slightly attractive or not. Maybe find that strange spark I hear about in films and romance books. I had a short-lived dream that our eyes would meet across the bar and an instant spark come between us, my world slowing down as he came over to introduce himself. But he was too engrossed in his laptop to even notice me.

"Hi," I said, smiling at the bar man suddenly, feeling my voice getting a little louder as if I subconsciously wanted to attract the attention of the other guy, but being as nice as possible to the bar man so if he did look up, he'd see I was friendly at least. Although deep down, I hoped the bar man hadn't caught me goggling at his only other customer in his bar.

"I, err-," I'd suddenly forgotten what I was going to ask the guy for. My mind drew a blank.

Wet laptop, that was right!

"Do you have any paper towels? Some inconsiderate buggar just drove through a large puddle and got me wet." I felt myself flush at my own comment. I had too many male friends who would have heard that comment and found a hidden sexual innuendo in it. I just hoped neither men at the bar; the one behind the bar and the stupidly handsome one still staring intently at his laptop with a small frown upon his face that accentuated a rather curious line on his forehead, would have noticed.

I had also noticed with a slight twinge of embarrassment that my voice not only was a little too loud, but my stupidly southern English accent had accentuated the way I said 'buggar'.

"Oh, damn," said the bar man. Looking actually genuinely remorseful. "Sure, let me get you some!" He suddenly took two steps away and drew out some green paper towels and brought them over to me. I just tried to keep my eyes on him and not the guy behind him who was now typing away at something with an indifferent look on his face. "You know, you can always use the hand-dryers in the ladies," the bar man continued after passing me the towels, "my girlfriend is always spilling drinks on herself, she says using the hand-dryers is better."

I mentally found myself sighing in relief at the thought of this guy already having a girlfriend – although hoping it wasn't too evident on my face. An ex-boyfriend had once told me my face was expressive. And he didn't mean it in a nice way either. At least there was less chance of the bar man trying to hit on me; the one man in the bar I didn't want to hit on me. Although, a small part of me wanted to challenge myself to that unspoken agreement I had with myself only a few days ago. I had told myself that it shouldn't be up to the men to make the first move. Women should make the first move. And more importantly, I should make the first move.

"Oh, thanks, but it's for my laptop, not me," I smiled. But I suddenly felt myself blush as the handsome man staring at his laptop suddenly looked up. Our eyes met only briefly as he took a sip of a drink that looked a lot like whiskey. His eyes were back down on the laptop in mere milliseconds. It was over so quickly that I could have just imagined it.

I suddenly felt deflated. He didn't even smile at me. His eyes didn't even linger enough to suggest he was attracted. There was no Hollywood spark. Nothing. Well, there goes the idea that he might even be in to me.

"Oh, sure!" the bar man smiled. I looked back at him, trying to keep my eyes fixed on this man instead as well as trying to keep my face straight and not frown in my disappointment. He didn't seem to have noticed, and he certainly didn't seem interested in hearing my story about how my laptop got wet. "Do you want a drink?"

"Yeah, might as well," I nodded and sighed, feeling tired and sore now that I thought about it. Well, I had just trudged from university with my laptop over my shoulder, heading towards my bus stop before I got splashed.

"Do you have Dalwhinnie?" I asked, feeling a little defiant and wanting to drink something that might impress. I didn't want either of the men thinking I was just a silly woman who also was a bit accident prone. Although, I didn't really want a glass of Dalwhinnie, I actually just fancied a glass of coke. I felt a little thirsty after trudging out of my class and carrying around my laptop everywhere. A glass of whiskey wasn't going to quench that thirst. But I had somehow convinced myself whiskey was the better choice in my situation.

I noticed the bar man lifted a curious eyebrow at me and I felt a small inward triumph. Although for a split second, doubt creeped through me that that eyebrow signalled something other than being impressed. "Of course. You want a glass of that?"

"Please." I nodded and smiled sweetly as I started to unzip my leather jacket and loosen my small black scarf around my neck. It wasn't that cold outside. It was spring. Nearly summer. But it was the Scottish weather; it was a little cold for me. I preferred warmer weather. Although it was strangely warm in the bar.

"Ice?" the bar man asked as he wandered over to the glasses and picked up a glass very similar to what the handsome man had. I noticed then that the handsome man was looking up at me again and I felt my cheeks flush again. My hopes skyrocketed, but my self-doubts kept them from going too high.

I just give him a raised eyebrow and smiled at him before deliberately cutting off the eye contact myself this time and looked back at the bar man, who I playfully frowned at and said, "And risk diluting it with water? No, thanks."

The bar man looked up at me curiously again but smiled when he noticed I was smiling at him. He nodded. "Good point. That's three fifty, please."

After the bar man placed the whiskey on the bar top, I shifted my laptop shoulder strap over my shoulder and reached into my pocket on my leather jacket, bringing out my bank card to pay for it. "Thanks," I muttered politely and was about to hand him my card when he spoke and I stopped in my tracks.

"We only accept payments over five pound, love, sorry."

"Oh!" I felt panic rise in me. I felt instantly stupid. I should have asked that they take card first. As soon as my face fell into sheer shock, I noticed the handsome man was back to looking at me again, a small wicked smile on his face. I felt a little small compared to him as if he was mocking me. But I suddenly had a brilliant idea. "In that case, make it two Dalwhinnies." I smiled triumphantly.

The bar man raised his eyebrow at me again, but held a strange frown on his face. This time I was sure he wasn't impressed. Maybe he was worried I was going to get too drunk and needed to be escorted out of the bar. But I wasn't going to explain and ruin the idea I had.

He seemed to reluctantly make me another Dalwhinnie and placed it on the bar top while watching my face curiously. It was as if he was waiting for the answer to appear on my forehead. But he finally took my bank card and placed it in the card-reader. It wasn't one of those contactless cards so I had to type in my pin number in and was finally grateful to pick up the glasses in my hands. The paper towels had been shoved into my jacket pocket carelessly and I walked down the bar towards the back of the room.

I had deliberately aimed for the large booths at the back of the room. There were three large booths with large built in seats. The deep red leather seats looked inviting and comfortable. Plus, more importantly, it meant having to walk past that exceptionally handsome customer at the bar.

As I walked past him, smelling a wonderful masculine yet probably expensive fragrance, I stopped and placed one of the Dalwhinnies next to his hand. "That one's for you," I said, with the sweetest smile I could muster. He looked round at me in surprise just as caught a glimpse of an email account open on his laptop with what looked like a lot of unread business emails. But he frowned as if I had just invaded his personal space and I added quickly: "With that frown on your face earlier, you look like you need one just as much as me."

I just wandered off while taking a sip of my own glass, without even waiting for him to say anything. Although I was sure I could feel his eyes staring at the back of my head in amazement. I didn't want to give him chance to brush me off; I wanted him to know that I was just being polite and friendly, not coming onto him. I betted that a lot of women came on to him, being as handsome as he was, and that was the last thing he wanted if he was busy with work stuff. But at the same time I wanted him to take notice of me and not as the silly girl who didn't carry change around with her.

It's not like I was expecting him to be interested, I just wanted to feel a little in control. I knew a guy like that wouldn't be interested in me. I was short, looked young for my age and always seemed to look like I was scowling at everyone. I didn't even think I was that attractive. Not like most of the girls I'd seen in bars. Plus, guys seemed to like the girls with thick make-up and blonde hair. My hair was a dark shade of red, natural of course, one side would flick out while the other flicked in, and if it was too wet outside it would just friz. I had stopped dying or bleaching my hair a long time ago, realising that I should just love who I was, my unruly red hair, stupid button nose and all. I was a bit of a rocker-chick too, with my dark eye make-up and leather jacket, rather than a sweet girly-girl, and I was proud of that.

I had also made a promise to myself. After having terrible luck with men; having dated what seemed like only manipulative men or desperate men who just didn't want to be alone. And then I had a deliberate two year single spell. I realised that not only was I worth more than the low-life men I had dated in the past, but I wasn't going to settle for a guy just for the hell of being in a relationship. I wanted a decent relationship. Hell, I wanted a best friend to spend my life with. And if I couldn't find that person, then I was happy enough just being single and making the most of life.

But in those two years, I had a lot of time to realise that I hadn't really had chance to meet any decent men. And I wasn't sure why it was. Maybe it was because I was unattractive? Maybe it was because I looked too young? Maybe it was because I prefer to wear jeans and t-shirts to wearing a dress and getting uncomfortable and cold? I moved to Scotland, it was a little cooler than England. But I also thought that there was another possibility; after speaking to my male friends, a lot of them had admitted they don't like to approach attractive women in fear of being rejected. So, somewhere in my head I decided that, why should it be men that approach women first? And more importantly, why didn't I approach men first? Rather than waiting for them to approach me? Not that I thought I was attractive! That was another problem, I was sure it was because I was unattractive that men didn't approach me. But I was going to fake confidence and test it out.

That handsome guy at the bar; he was just a test to see if I could do it. Seems I could. Although, with a ridiculously fast beating heart, stupidly sweaty palms, the thoughts of doubt quickly creeped into my head as I settled into the seat. Why did I just give a guy a glass of Dalwhinnie? What if he didn't want it? What if he didn't like Dalwhinnie? What if he thought I was stupid? Oh god!

---

Feel free to check out my other work here:

Rose Garden Sanatorium
Read my Prologue here:
https://steemit.com/writing/@penny-rose/rose-garden-sanatorium-prologue-updated
And Chapter one here:
https://steemit.com/story/@penny-rose/rose-garden-sanatorium-chapter-1-updated

I fell in Love with a Psychopath
Read Chapter 1 here:
https://steemit.com/writing/@penny-rose/i-fell-in-love-with-a-psychopath-chapter-1
Read Chapter 2 here:
https://steemit.com/fiction/@penny-rose/i-fell-in-love-with-a-psychopath-chapter-2

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