Today was any other kind of normal. the kind of normal where you'd end the day every evening, with drinks at your favorite bar. you'd come to grow familiar with the people here. the atmosphere and the feeling of it all had you coming back—including the people. you'd grown accustom to the bartenders, regulars, and even the ones who'd only stop by for a quick drink or two.

but oh—there was one face you've never noticed.

he stood at the entrance, letting his intense eyes roam the place before his heavy footsteps took him to a stool at the bar, the stool just beside you.

This was a man. a real. fucking. man.

his posture, his muscular build, the earthy cologne that rolled off of him, his cadence when he ordered his drink, his grave raspy voice. a real fucking man.

and gosh were you smitten, brazenly staring—because fuck was it hard to find men like this these days. you'd take a sip of your own alcohol, letting your eyes rake down his figure as you sighed dreamily. just by his looks you could tell that he carried himself with pride, and wouldn't just accept anyone who threw themselves at him.

but then suddenly, he spoke, "you're staring." his deep, baritone voice would speak out, his eyes focused on the multiple selection of alcohol infront of you both as he took a sip of his own— gazing over you.

You'd been caught.