I was standing outside Harry’s at 7:15 that night. Pacing nervously along the sidewalk, I kept smoothing out my jacket. It was 7:30. She still wasn’t there. By 8, I had a beer in my hand, a courtesy of Harry, who handed it to me with what might have been a glance of pity. I left at 8:30.

I got a text the next day. It was from her. I ignored it. I got another. I ignored that one. I got a phone call from her. I ignored that one too. I got two more that night. I ignored them as well.

I was in Harry’s two nights later. The boys were joking around, but it wasn’t hard to sense the change in the attitude between us. I was being handled. I didn’t like it. It made me feel weak. Rather than join in, I stared sullenly into my half empty glass. Suddenly the gentle joking stopped abruptly. The bar echoed with the sharp clacking noise of shoes on the hard floor.

“Mate, you are right fucked now,” Roman muttered, his eyes gazing at the approaching person.

“Shut up you nitwit,” Sam replied, though his voice also housed the level of shock Roman’s had. Nik didn’t speak. I still stared at my glass.

“OK, that is it. You need to talk to me,” I looked up. Mia stood above me, her hand rested on her hips, her lips pursed, and her face was scrunched together as she glared at me. Even now, she looked absolutely stunning. I swallowed what was left of my drink, stood up, and moved towards the bar. She quickly moved to get in my way.

“You are in my way. I need a new drink.”

“You are being an asshole,” she snapped back.

“That is a well known fact.”

“It’s true. He is like a cactus. Not for everyone, but some people like to look at him. Don’t get too close though,” Roman interjected, his amusement not even trying to be hidden “He gets a little prickly.”

“Shut up,” Mia snapped.

“She is defending you man, that’s good right?” Roman asked. He was promptly slapped upside the head.

“Look Jay, I know I mess-” she began, but I quickly cut her off, trying not to betray how much her using my name affected my stomach. Digest those butterflies!

“Mia, the thing is I really don’t care. I spent all day in that god awful job waiting for you to show up, and you didn’t. It hurt, and I got burned. The thing is, I don’t get burned twice. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get myself a new drink,” I said, making my voice as steely as possible, hoping that no emotion creeped through. Even now, I could hear the old voice of my grandfather rasping out to me that emotions are a weakness just waiting to be exploited.

Mia stood there, transfixed. I pushed past her and headed to the bar, keeping my hands firmly in my pockets.

As I approached the bar, I listened as Sam moved towards Mia and mutter something quietly to her.

She made her move towards the bar and me.

“I want a do over,” she demanded.

“I’m not sure it works like that,” I replied, a small smile playing on my lips.  She took the smile on my face as a good sign. She leaned in very close to me.

“Are you sure?” She whispered. This wasn’t her usual comfortable purring, dripping with self confidence. Instead, it was laced with bashfulness and the easily identifiable worry of being rejected.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE MAN, JUST KISS HER AND TAKE HER OUT!” Roman boomed out from our corner table.

“Your friend is an absolute moron, but I like that idea,” Mia quipped. She held her hand for me to take.

I stared at it. “I don’t know Mia,” I started.

But this time, she is the one who cut me off:“I have a really good reason why, I Promise!” her voice filled with so much down pleading, that I cannot even manage to find a single reason to say no. So I took her hand and moved out towards the door with her.  Meanwhile, the boys whistling and hollering at us, and Roman loudly making crude suggestions.