Hello! I'm glad you found the summary interesting. At least I'm doing something right with this writing thing. Anyway, this is my first story on FictionPress, so please read on and tell me what you think! Reviews are welcome and appreciated.


I idly fiddled with my shamrock keychain, a half empty but hardly ignored bottle of Stella Artois sitting in front of me. A mellow song began playing in the background, and I focused on the singer's subdued voice as I tried to remember the name.

Our love was lost
But now we found it
Our love was lo-o-ost
And hope was gone

It was Love Lost by The Temper Trap. "Very nice," I murmured before picking up my bottle of lager and taking a generous swig. As I set the bottle back down on the soggy napkin, my eyes met the curious brown ones of the tall man behind the counter.

"Didja say something, Veen?" Al asked genially, walking over from another customer to stand in front of me. "It was nothing Al; just talking to myself. You of all people should know my annoying habits by now," I teased.

Al gave a hearty laugh. "Of course. Guess I should stop asking every time I hear you muttering something, huh?" He turned around briefly to grab something out of the refrigerator as I replied, "I suppose. But hey, I keep coming back despite your annoying habit, don't I?"

Al faced me again, a grin on his face and another ice cold beer in hand. He set the bottle down on the polished counter and I gave him a grateful look as I took a sip. "You're something else, Veen," he chuckled before going over to a couple that just sat down. I smiled. Since I started going to Al's bar two months ago, we've become good friends. Al was one of very few people who didn't get offended by my dry sense of humor. He also never questioned my frequent visits accompanied with nothing but my keys, wallet and a desire for alcohol. It was the ideal bartender-regular relationship.

I sat on the bar stool, so deep in thought over my friendship with Al that I didn't notice the door creaking as it was pushed open, nor the frigid gust of autumn air that forced its way in and sent a shudder through the customers surrounding me. I didn't notice the lanky guy that stood in front of the doorway unbuttoning his black peacoat, unraveling the scarf around his neck, and hanging them up on the coat rack. I didn't notice the way he scanned the room, eyes moving from the small tables to the leather booths and eventually settling on the counter. In fact, I didn't notice anything about anyone until I heard a voice next to me say "I'd like the best bourbon in the house, neat."

I glanced sideways at the guy, who had seated himself two stools away from me and was casually studying the display of bottles on the wall. As far as I knew, he had never been to this bar before. His dark hair was slightly mussed, cheeks a rosy color due to the cold, and skinny body clothed in a plaid shirt, dark jeans and black loafers. From what I could see, he looked young— hardly of drinking age. I smirked. He'll get carded for sure.

"Sure, but I'm going to need to see some ID," Al said nicely. I bit my lip to keep from laughing as the guy sighed exasperatedly and fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out an ID and held it out in front of Al, who nodded quickly and began preparing his drink.

The guy replaced his ID and, without looking up, said "It's embarrassing enough getting carded, but having you watch it happen pretty much crushed what's left of my dignity, you know."

And with that, he looked up from his wallet and turned to me, staring directly into my startled eyes. I mentally noted his eyes, which were a friendly, clear blue-grey framed by dark brown eyelashes, before smirking again. "How unfortunate for you. I imagine it happens quite often," I replied drily. ID Boy chuckled lightly to my surprise. I thought he would have run out crying, or at the very least have been offended. "Far too much for my liking, I'll tell you that," he mused before taking a drink of his bourbon.

"Huh," I mumbled noncommittally as I stared at my second empty bottle of beer. That was enough for tonight, I decided. I reached into my jacket pocket, grabbed my credit card and waved it at Al, who set down a newly polished glass and took my card. While I waited, ID Boy spoke again. "So what are you doing at a bar by yourself on a Thursday night? Two Stellas isn't nearly enough to get hammered, so I imagine it isn't because of anything horrible."

I arched an eyebrow. "That's not exactly any of your business, is it?"

"I'm a curious person."

Al came back and handed me my credit card, an amused expression on his face. He knows I'm not much of a conversationalist while sitting with a drink in hand and wallowing in god-knows-what. Even if ID Boy started the conversation. I rolled my eyes at Al and slid off the bar stool, zipping up my jacket and pocketing my things.

I turned and faced ID Boy, taking in his boyish and slightly smiling features before stating simply, "I'm here because I like the music Al plays."

That's all for now. The first chapter might seem really short, but I've written the next one and I'll post it soon (if anyone actually wants me to). Thanks!