Hip-hop in the summer, donβt be a bummer babeβ¦
Loud music echoed through the hot air of the bar. It was a humid June night, the sun still somewhat in the sky, young people throughout the city flooding into bars, clubs and pubs, and anywhere they could get a drink.
You were sitting on a barstool, alone. The friends you had shown up with had promptly left you after each finding someone to pursue. The bar was packed, so thankfully, the bartender paid you little attention. Thank god, because you had no clue what you wanted, hell, you rarely went out to bars. You also were rarely left alone.
A few people had come up to you throughout the night, but after hearing your uninterested, albeit, polite responses, they had all fled pretty quickly.
Out of your peripheral vision, you saw a man looking at you from across the floor. He had a small smirk on his lips, and he sauntered over, taking his time, while skillfully dodging and weaving his way through the huge crowd of people.
He was pretty tall and slender, with rusty brown, almost auburn hair. He was dressed in a white tank top and jeans, which was much better than the horrendous shirts you had seen throughout the night.
He slid into the barstool beside yours, and you turned to face him. His pale blue eyes softened at the sight of you, and you could feel your heart start to beat a little faster in your ribs.
βCould I buy you a drink, love?β He asked softly, his Irish accent smooth like honey. It felt like the entire world had paused, as you found yourself completely enraptured by this man with pretty eyes.
You found yourself agreeing without question, and he nodded with a smile, leaning over the counter, asking the bartender for two drinks.
The glasses were placed on the counter, and he nudged one over to you.
βIβm Davin, by the way. And you are?β He asked, his teeth running over his lip a little, as he held his beer in his hand.