Love On The Rocks

Chapter 3: Mojito

And there it came again: that regular day of the week that had become so special to me. The last day of the week, yet the one that held the most promise. Sunday.

He'll surely drop by once again, a third time, just as he has done twice already...

With this thought in mind, I made the bold assumption that he would come, and so I decided to get his drink ready beforehand: by then, I was already used to his habits and expected him to once again ask me to fill his glass with Glencraig whisky.

I did not have to wait long for Crowley to walk through the bar's front door and make his way to the counter while he bore a smile directed my way; but as he sat down, and before he could even engage in a conversation with me, I turned around to grab his drink before I turned back to face him and set it down on the counter in front of him.

"Here's your Craig."

Upon seeing me serve him, his eyes widened a little, and I could tell by his expression that he had not anticipated my behavior.

"I haven't even given you my order yet." He said as he smiled at me curiously.

I stared into his eyes, set both of my elbows down on the counter, then rested my chin on the back of my hands.

"You don't have to." I told him with a smile of my own.

And after that, the rest of our night went down exactly the same way the first two had: the two of us became more familiar with one another while I filled his glass with the same liquor every now and then. That evening, I even confessed to Crowley that I did not know a single thing about Scotland - despite working at a Scotland-themed bar - aside from classic Scottish alcoholic drinks. To this, he said he could tell me all about Scotland, all I needed and had to know, and so he did; I was so interested in hearing what he had to teach me that this branch of our conversation occupied quite a significant part of our night. And during that entire time, I watched him speak, charmed by how passionate he was to tell me about this country he seemed to be so attached to.

By the end of the evening, he had left the bar after having left me a tip, as he had done twice already; deep down, I was sad to see him go, because I had not met someone like him in a long time, and I had come to cherish these Sunday evenings we spent together. Deep down, I was saddened by the thought that I would have to wait another week, another Sunday to see him again. But to my surprise, something I had not expected happened the next evening: he came back again, breaking his pattern of Sundays. And this was when I truly understood he was no longer coming to the Golden Cross for his Craig anymore, but for me.

And so, he came back again the next night. And then the next. And then the next. And then the next. Until he didn't.

By then, the two of us had set up a routine we were both aware of: Crowley came down to the bar every evening, always at the same hour, sat at the very same seat, to order the same drink every time. But one night, he did not show up; I waited for him to walk through the front door at the usual time, as always, but when I looked at the time on my phone I saw a minute had passed, yet he still was not there.

He may just be a bit late... which is no big deal at all. Everything's probably fine.

After having given myself reassurance, I went back to serving customers, all while I waited for him. But as the minutes passed, he had still not arrived, and I started to grow worried; at one point, I stood still as I took my phone out to check the time once more, then I clutched it tight in my hand.

I know there's something between us, I can feel it... and I'm sure he can feel it too... so... what if he's already taken, and has realized flirting with me every night is wrong?