The bar is lit low, the shiny wood counter has rings of moisture on it from your drink sitting there a little too long.

Being stood up wasn’t all that fun… especially from someone you really thought you had a shot with. Someone who really liked you, who actually seemed interested. So, here you are, drowning your sorrows in whiskey and overthinking.

You were a few glasses in when you decided to shoot the date-ditcher a few nasty messages. Giving him a few choice words and practically slamming your phone on the shiny wooden counter.

A girl who knows her liquor is a girl who’s been dumped, or whatever.

The bell to the bar door chimes, announcing someone’s arrival. you didn’t look up when you heard the person sit right next to you.

“You look like shit.”

The voice points. Oh, shit… Joel. Why did you feel like you were in trouble? You were over the legal drinking age… by one year, but that didn’t matter. You were still allowed to be in the bar and drink.

“Got dumped.”

You hiccup, nearly pouting, which Joel wants to laugh at. It was honestly kind of funny watching you throw a little pity party over some man you’d probably get bored of in a week.

“Well… I’m taking your sorry ass home. Your dad told me you were here.”

You tsk, finally pulling our head up to look at him, seeing double. You frown at the blurry face that is Joel. Of course your dad ratted on you. And sent the sexiest of his friends to come and pick you up… even though you knew it was only the case because Joel literally lived next door.

After some fussing, he got you in his truck and you were driving out of the city to your dad’s house. It was quiet as you watched the multitude of buildings in Austin slowly lessen as you enter the country. Some bluegrass song playing softly on the radio. Joel glances over at you,

“Sorry you got stood up.”

He murmurs, trying to sound apathetic… but in all honesty, it’s a mix of concern and something else… relief. He was relieved you got stood up… And you picked up on it.