"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. Drop dead."
Patrick reached forward carefully and withdrew the glass from in front of Nixie, pulling out the picks she had thrown into it with each exclamation.
"Honey, it's lovely that you have reached the point of aggravation and, apparently, intoxication at which you feel free to express your emotions, but you are using up all of my little plastic swords and I need those for my sissy mixed drinks."
Nixie sighed and slumped down onto the bar, resting her head on her folded arms and squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that had been threatening them since she sat down. She actually wasn't drunk. She wished she was because it would probably help her get through the night more easily, but the drink that she filled with picks had only been her second and Patrick had confiscated it before she was able to take more than a sip.
"What's wrong with me, Patrick?" Nixie asked, lifting her head from her arms and digging her fingers back through her hair.
"Nothing's wrong with you. You have completely legit reasons to be upset right now. Your boyfriend broke up with you because he said he needed to work on himself and wasn't ready to make any major commitments and then got engaged three weeks later to your former college roommate who, incidentally, introduced the two of you in the first place, and they are having their joint bachelor-slash-bachelorette party tonight."
"Thank you for that rambling run-on sentence of a recap."
Patrick tilted his head and looked into the distance like he was going back over what he had just said.
"No, that was actually completely grammatically correct. Wordy as hell, perhaps, but grammatically correct."
There was a loud cheer from the small private room at the back of the bar and Nixie rolled her eyes, sagging back down onto the bar.
"I guess he could have been more tactful than to hold the party at the bar he knows you have gone to every single Friday night for the last five years," Patrick said, glancing over at the room and then back at Nixie, "Speaking of which, why are you still here?"
"I am showing how positive and strong I am, and that he can't get me down," she replied, not bothering to lift her head from her arms.
"Yeah," he said, sounding unconvinced, "You show them, girl." Nixie felt him pet the back of her head awkwardly, "Not that this whole situation you've got going on here isn't effective, but do you know what would really make an impact on Bryan?"
"What?"
"Dancing with someone like that delicious piece of man candy that has been eyeing you for the last hour."
Nixie raised her head to look at Patrick.
"How many times have I asked you not to use that phrase? It makes me uncomfortable." She turned around to look in the same direction as Patrick, "Damn."
"I told you. Man candy."
Nixie turned back to Patrick.
"Where the hell did he come from?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder at the gorgeous man across the bar.
"I don't know, but he's looking at you. Maybe he's looking at me." Patrick struck what Nixie could only assume was meant to be a subtly sexy pose, held it for a few seconds, and then relaxed again, "No, definitely you."
"Great. I've had an audience for my emotional breakdown."
Patrick suddenly picked up a rag and started randomly wiping down any surface he could reach without moving from his spot.
"I don't think that's why he's been looking at you. Perk up, Fancy, he's on his way over here."
"What?" Nixie half-shrieked, half-whispered, but before Patrick could respond, she felt someone step up beside her.
She glanced up and saw the man from across the bar standing close to her, gazing down at her with eyes the color of chocolate and lips that looked like they were just as sweet.
"Hi," he said and the smooth, silky rumble of his voice rolled through her like thunder.
"Hi."
"Is there anyone sitting here?"
He rested his hand on the back of the barstool beside her and Nixie shook her head.
"No."
"Can I join you?"
There was a strange yip sound from Patrick and Nixie looked over to see him suddenly extremely invested in cleaning and arranging the glasses in the ceiling racks that likely hadn't been touched in several years.
"Absolutely," she said, turning back to the man.
He settled his denim-clad body onto the barstool beside her and looked at Patrick.
"Is he ok?"
Nixie let out a long breath.
"He's fine. He's just not very good at his job."
Patrick shot her a disgusted glance over his shoulder and the man beside her laughed.
"I'm Damian," he said, extending his hand to Nixie.
"Nixie," she said, tucking her hand into his.
He didn't so much shake her hand as give it a gentle squeeze and Nixie felt a flutter in her belly.
"So, what are you doing sitting here all alone tonight?"
There was another cheer from the private room and Nixie cringed.
"They're pretty loud, huh?"
"That is an engagement party for my former college roommate," she started.
"Shouldn't you be in there, then?"
"And my ex-boyfriend."
"Ah. Well, that's uncomfortable."
"It most certainly is."
Damian slid off his stool and held out a hand to Nixie.
"Let me take your mind off it."
There was another yip from Patrick, but Nixie had such focus on Damian she didn't even look his way. She took Damian's hand again and let him guide her off her stool and toward the small dancefloor in the center of the room. Only a few other people were dancing, but Nixie didn't care. Damian pulled her into his arms and rested his hands on the full swell of her hips. She could feel the heat coming off his body as he moved against her, encouraging her to roll with him to the rhythm of the music throbbing around them.