Chapter 6
Ensley
I noticed him from the moment he walked into the bar because he looked nothing like someone I had met in real life before. Sure, living in LA, I had seen bikers around the city but only from afar. Never had I seen one up close like this before, and I was gawking at him like he was an exotic animal in my living room.
There was no doubt about the fact that he led a lifestyle that was very different from my own; a biker lifestyle. If the helmet he was carrying, tucked under his arm, wasn’t a dead giveaway-the leather cut he had on and the tattoos crawling up his arms were.
I tightened my legs together as he walked towards me. I was sitting with my legs crossed on the stool; my body turned slightly sideways so that I had a clear view of the door. I could feel a sudden clenching of muscles in the pit of my stomach as he walked near me.
I could see the sour expression on his face as he walked past groups of giggling girls and light-weight drunk guys. He looked like someone who would win any beer chugging contest hands down.
It wasn’t just the bad-boy impression he created; it was everything about his body. The way the muscles on his wide shoulders moved with every step he took. The chiseled structure of his face. How his head was shaved, and a patch of hair on top grew long. There was nothing ‘normal’ about him, and maybe that was exactly why I was so drawn to him.
I could feel my cheeks flushing as he walked closer, but he had seen right through me. I was wrong. He wasn’t walking towards me, he was walking towards the bar.
I felt a wave of embarrassment when he sat down on a stool a few feet away from me. He hadn’t even seen me. He didn’t even know I existed! I couldn’t stop staring at him though. I noticed the patch of a Grim Reaper on the back of his cut. The way his biceps moved as he took the glass of whiskey from the bartender.
He was definitely not the type of man I usually went for, but that could have something to do with the fact that I had never met anyone like him before. I was still staring at him, still trying to figure out just how strong he was. If the palm of his hand would fit right around my waist, what it would feel like to have him on top of me. I couldn’t believe I was this bold. Fantasizing about a stranger who wasn’t even looking at me! I felt another wave of heat flush over my body and in that exact moment, he looked to his side and caught me staring.
It was like my breath had caught in my throat. I jerked my head away from him, embarrassed and excited at the same time that he had noticed me staring. I had watched as he’d chugged down his whiskey in one go and then asked for another. He wasn’t the world’s most polite man, but it didn’t matter to me. All I could think about was how strong and devastatingly hot he was.
While I kept my face firmly turned from him, I could sense him looking at me now. It was his turn.
I didn’t dare to look at him. Although, I was racked with curiosity about whether he liked what he saw. Just like he wasn’t my usual type, I was pretty sure that I wasn’t his usual type either. I was probably too blond, too well covered in clothes, and drinking a vodka martini. I was stereotyping him by imagining him with a girl in fishnet stockings with her breasts spilling out of a leather bikini top. His eyes were still on me. I could feel his gaze searing into my skin; even from this distance.
And then, just as suddenly as he had turned to me, he had turned away.
I realized then that I had been holding my breath all this while. I released with a deep sigh and bit down hard on my bottom lip. I wanted him to look at me again, but he didn’t seem like he was going to. I stole some looks in his direction and saw that he was immersed in thought. He was already drinking his second whiskey and just like I had predicted-I was the last woman he’d be interested in, in this bar.
“You look like a martini sort of girl,” I heard a voice beside me, startling me out of my thoughts. I blinked rapidly to adjust my gaze and turned to find a different guy standing beside me.
There was nothing wrong with him, except that he wasn’t the man in the leather cut.
“Excuse me?” I said, barely finding my voice to say anything to him.
“I said that you look like a martini sort of girl,” the guy repeated himself and leaned closer to me, to make himself heard over the loud house music.
“I know what you said, I just don’t understand what it means,” I said to him with a smile. He had kind of disappointed me by not being the biker guy, but that was no reason for me to be rude to him.
He stepped back and looked me up and down, clutching his bottle of craft beer in one hand.
“You know, career woman, out on her own on a Saturday night,” he said, and tipping his head to one side, he took a sip of his beer. As annoying as what he said was, I was relieved that he hadn’t recognized me. I’d had enough of signing autographs and taking selfies with strangers for one night.
I smiled at him and turned away, hoping that he would get the hint that I didn’t want to have a conversation.
“Am I right?” he continued, and stifling a sigh, I looked at him again. He was typical of this kind of neighborhood. Beanie on his head, jeans tighter than mine, flannel shirt. I had to bite my tongue before I asked him where his skateboard was.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that. Yes, I have a career as most women do, and yes I’m out alone on a Saturday night; which is pretty obvious given that I’m sitting here alone and it is a Saturday night,” I said, keeping the smile intact on my face. I knew that he was just trying to make flirtatious conversation, but I wasn’t in the mood.
He raised an eyebrow at me and stepped closer, which I felt was a little too close for someone who was trying to chat me up. I said nothing though and took small sips of my martini.
“You look familiar, have I seen you somewhere?” he asked, and I shrugged my shoulders.
“Doesn’t everyone in LA look familiar?” I asked, and he threw his head back and laughed like I had said the funniest thing in history.
“I’m Murray by the way,” he added and stuck his hand out at me. I had to put my glass down on the counter so that I could shake his hand.
“Ensley,” I said, and when he held my hand, it lingered longer than necessary, till I had to gently pry mine away. On any other night, I might have welcomed and even enjoyed Murray’s company, but not tonight. Tonight, I wanted to be left alone and with my own thoughts about my sudden change in lifestyle, and drooling over a handsome stranger who didn’t notice me.
“That is a strange name,” he said, leaning close to me again. He was peering at me like he was waiting for an explanation of my name. The guy who I was sure drank Kombucha for all three meals. I knew exactly what these trendy LA types were like, and he was calling me strange!
I shrugged my shoulders dejectedly at him again.
“What can I say? I have a weird name I guess,” I said, and he threw his head back and laughed again. I had no idea I was even being funny.
“Okay, how about I buy you a drink and we can discuss the meaning of your name a little further?” Murray said, and without waiting for a response from me, he indicated to the waiter to bring me another.
This wasn’t funny anymore. I felt like this guy was coming on too strong and now I regretted even encouraging him a little.
“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to leave soon. I don’t think I have time for another drink,” I said, in as apologetic a fake voice as I could manage.
Murray looked at me again, his lips pouted exaggeratedly.
“Don’t be like that, beautiful, you’re going to break my heart,” he said, and a weak laugh escaped my lips.
I tried to slide off the stool, but he was standing right in front of me, blocking my path.