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The atmosphere was energetic. Contagious rhythms of the band’s beat reached everyone in the joint. Even the bar tender was jiving, not every good might I add. He was spilling the concoctions of liquor on the bar’s counter and himself. The customers didn’t really care, they were content. Some were even too comfortable; make out sessions were held in the back, constant puking can be heard from the doors of the bathrooms, and tone-deaf want–to-bes were singing along with the d.j..

After a few dances, my body temperature was rising and beads of sweat began to form. Tired and thirsty, I headed back to my table, only to find my drink in the same piles as Kristi’s. The poor girl is an alcoholic, a amateur one at that. My drink, that she took, was a soda, but if she wants it to be a carbonated ginger sprits, on the rocks then so be it. Maybe this way she will not get drunk and puke on the welcoming matt, like last time. That was one welcome home present for mom.

I sat at the bar, waiting for the bartender to come down for his high, though it might be a while. Trying to entertain myself, I twirled the barstool left and right. When that notion didn’t work I started looking for the girls. It didn’t last long because some guy blocked my view. The word rebel was the only word to describe him. He had strange, gravity defying hair and a distasteful tattoo on his neck. By the way he was smirking I new what he was going to say: a cheesy pick up line.

“Can I borrow a quarter?” He gruffed out. The smell of alcohol was repulsive and leaked out of his mouth like raw sewage. This guy was seriously in need of a breathe mint.

"What for?"

“I want to call my mom and tell her I just met the woman of my dreams.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that. I told him to get his quarter from someone else and spend it on some tic-tacs. Too bad he never took the hint. He just kept smiling with a disturbing gleam in his eye.

“Is this seat empty?” His hand gestures to the stool beside me.

“Yes,” I point to my seat, “and this one will be too if you sit down.” The warning was unheard as he sat his large butt on the cushion. Before he could make himself comfortable, I was walked away.

For a minute, I thought he was behind me but the scent of his cologne was over powering. This ‘new’ guy was cleaner then “Mr. Foul,” and hopefully he had a better way with words. I was wrong.

“Are those space jeans? Because your a** is outta this world.”

Turning to face him I said, “Excuse me? Are you calling my butt huge?” He had to be. Only a butt the size of a light year can get ‘out of this world.’ I don’t care if he was cute and had the most beautiful eyes in the world. He insulted me.

“Aaaaaa, no. Well you have some nice pants on. It makes your a** look nice and I wanted to know if I could test the zipper.” So he thinks I am fat and called me a slut. Talk about adding insult to injury.

“Dream on freak.” My footsteps were heavy as I stomped away, back to the booth. The table was empty, except for a blue drink with a lemon on the rim—Kristi’s probably. She drank one of mine so I will drink hers. It only seems fair. I grabbed the glass and took a large gulp. Guys were getting on my nerves today and look, here comes another one.

"Hello my name is Darin. I am new to this town and I was wondering if I could have the directions to your house?"

"Yes, you make a left at 'Hell No' Ave. and keep going straight 'til you get to 'F.U.' Blvd.” I didn’t even bother to look at him.

“Come on girl, you are the most beautiful girl in the bar. Don’t be like that. I know how to please a woman.”

“Then please leave me alone. I want to have an intelligent conversation with a real man and not some grubby loser like you.” Throwing what’s left of my drink on his head I headed for the door. I needed fresh air and most of all I need space, space away from men who only wanted a one night-stand.

My journey led me to a small, fragrant café. The environment was the complete opposite as the club. It was quiet, serene, and filled with a smiling group of people. My soul was so at peace. While taking sips of my hot chocolate, a man sat across from me. He tugged off his hat and put it on the table. His dark brown hair, which spiked at different angles, was clean and combed. His bright emerald eyes shown behind his oval shaped glasses. They had a different gaze in them, than the others. They were warm and true. I could gaze at them for hours, and then the spell was broken.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”