2
HARRIET
The redheaded fighter sat at the bar with his opponent, both of them now laughing like they were long-time friends and had not just beaten the snot out of each other.
I couldn't take my eyes off him.
It didn't make any sense. He was blustery and loud, the opposite of what I liked. And I really had no interest in boxing, or fighting, or any other macho "my dick's bigger than yours" sport. Yet this feeling had taken hold inside my chest and refused to let go.
"You look like the little girl whose mom said she could lick the bowl of cake batter," Jason said.
"Uh huh," I mumbled, taking another sip of wine to hide my silly smile.
"I have a confession: I wasn't feeling bad," Jon said. "I only said that because I thought Harriet wasn't having a good time."
"Oh honey, you're so sweet," Jason said, putting a hand on his bicep. "But I think we're the ones who are gunna have to peel her away from this place."
I was barely listening. A tall frat boy had strode up to the redhead and poked him in the back like he wanted to fight. It looked tense for a few moments, but now he had the frat boy laughing and slapping him on the back like they'd just found out they were related. He had an aura about him.
"Why don't you go introduce yourself?"
I finally peeled my eyes away and turned back to the table. "That's what I've been trying to work up the courage to do."
"He's been sitting there for 10 minutes," Jon said.
"I know! That's how bad I am at this!"
"It's easy. Just compliment him on the fight. Or his muscles. Guys love compliments."
"Especially from a pretty girl," Jason added.
"He's nice to look at, but probably not my type," I said.
"Not your type?" Jason's mouth hung open. "Honey, that boy is everyone's type. He's type O-positive. Nobody's gunna reject that shit."
"I think O-negative is the universal donor," Jon chimed in, but Jason waved him away.
"You know what I'm saying. So what's stopping you, Harriet?"
There was one voice in my head stopping me: I wasn't pretty enough for a guy like that. The voice in the back of my head screamed it again and again to make sure I didn't forget. Most of the girls in here wore tight cocktail dresses that were practically painted on their bodies, showing every curve and inch of cleavage. I'd spent exactly 15 seconds in the mirror pinning back my own red hair before throwing on the same cotton blouse I'd worn two days in a row because I didn't think anyone would notice.
And that's what really stopped me from going over to say hi: I had no chance with him. He wasn't just out of my league: he was playing a completely different sport with rules I didn't even understand. I'd had boyfriends in my five years at MIT, but they were always like me: goofy, nerdy, too shy to take charge or ask for what they wanted. It's who I was, and who I was meant to be with.
"I'm not looking for anything tonight," I said instead. "Just some drinks to relax."
"What you're looking for may be different than what you're looking at. Because you were looking at him the way the coyote looks at the roadrunner."
"Like he was a human-sized porkchop and you're a junkyard dog," Jason added.
"Like he's a glass of ice water and you're thirsty."
"Okay, okay, I get it," I said to stop their banter.
Jason looked past me. "Well, you missed your chance because the clover-tailed hunk is gone."
I looked over my shoulder and felt a pang of regret to see that his bar stool was empty, along with the bald fighter's. Now that the chance was gone, I felt the deep loss of a missed opportunity. I should have gone up to him. It couldn't have hurt to say hi. Maybe I was his type, whatever that was. Nerdy, I guess.
But it was too late now. I drank the rest of my wine in one gulp and said, "Oh well. Plenty of fish, right?"
I must not have been very convincing, because they both gave me sympathetic smiles.
"We're ready to leave if you are," Jon said. "I'm teaching swim class at 5, and if I don't get some sleep I'll probably drown."
"I'm ready," I said, but as I turned around I practically ran into him.
Him. The redheaded fighter. He'd put his T-shirt back on, but it didn't do much to conceal the lithe muscles underneath. Up close I saw his cheek was bruised, but as he smiled that only made him more gorgeous.
"Well then?" he said in that thick Irish accent that made my knees weak.
"Well then what?" I managed to say.
"Well then when were ya gunna let me buy ya a drink? Ya've been ogling me all night I ought to charge your eyes rent." He blinked. "Though they're so gorgeous I'd give ya a discount."
All of it--the accent, the cheesy line, and the way he stood just a little too close to me to let me smell his sweat-and-musk scent--was enough that I practically fell to the ground and wrapped my arms around his leg to keep him from ever leaving, like a petulant child.
Now he was staring at me, his gaze cool and calm. Waiting for a response. I hadn't said anything back; I was just gawking at him like a tourist at the zoo.
Say something, Harriet! What's wrong with you?
But that part of my brain was broken, and all I could do was lick my lips and stand paralyzed inside my own body.
"She'd love a drink," Jason jumped in. "She's drinking cab sauv."
"But I'll take anything you give me!" I blurted out. I immediately felt like an idiot, hearing the subtext behind the statement, and the truth of the subtext, and I felt my cheeks burning.
"Wine it is," the redhead said with a nod. As he walked away I stared at his chiseled ass rolling in his fighting shorts.
"Mmm hmm," Jason said, admiring the same view. Jon cleared his throat and jabbed his boyfriend in the ribs.
"I don't think he's your type, honey."
"What?" Jason said. "Even if the puppy's not for sale, I can admire in through the window!"
"I'm stupid," I said, beginning to panic. "That was a stupid thing to say. Right?"
"Calm down sweetie," Jason said. "Cheesy pickup lines are standard in these places. He probably thought it was cute."
"But I don't want to seem too forward..."
Jon put a hand on my arm. "You're overthinking it. Like you always do."
He was right. All he'd offered was to buy me a drink. Take it one step at a time, Harriet.
"Do you want us to stick around?" Jason asked. "Make sure he's not a creep?"
I waved them off. "I'm totally fine. Aside from being nervous. You two can go."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. I'll take an Uber home."