The Pinballer (writing prompt)

"I don't like salad or eye contact."

It was an evening like any other at The Bar, a cleverly named pub in a small town in Ireland. People came and went with the wind, ordering drinks and fries. Max was a newcomer, which was unusual. Most people that entered The Bar were common; usual. They all lived in the town or had been there before.

But Max had never stepped foot inside the dark place with the jukebox in the corner and the pool tables. It was a small place, he noted as he slid his sunglasses off his nose and up to the top of his head. The sun had gone down an hour earlier, but he hadn't thought to take them off until he entered the remarkably dim building. There were only a few lights; one above each pool table, and a few strewn randomly over the tables and polished bar.

Max walked to the bartender, ordering whatever was the cheapest on tap. The tender couldn't have been much older than he was; 23, maybe 25. He said his name was Bryan as he slid the thick glass down the bar at Max, then resumed wiping off the shining bar surface.

Rubbing his hands down his face, Max let himself slump onto a bar stool as he stared mindlessly into the ice and bubbling liquor. Just as he lifted his glass to his lips, the door jingled.

"Hey, Ryan," A girl's voice called, walking along in front of the bar until she reached the pinball machine on the far side or the square building.

"Hey, Ree," Ryan said, apparently knowing her well enough to greet her without looking up.

Max hunched his shoulders, ducking his head to keep the liquid in the glass from spilling as he tipped it down too fast. His eyes had been on the girl, curiosity flooding him enough to make him forget he was drinking and nearly choke.

He called Ryan over to him.

"What's up?" Ryan asked, leaning forward onto his elbows in front of Max.

"That girl," Max nodded towards the tall, thin girl at the vintage pinball machine, "Who is she?"

"That?" Ryan verified, looking up. "Oh, that's Adrien. She comes here everyday."

"To do what?"

"What's it look like?" Ryan retorted.

"She just plays pinball?"

"Says if helps her unwind. Feel normal."

Max raised his eyebrows in question.

"This is just between you and me," Something about that made Max roll his eyes. He was sure Ryan told anyone who mentioned Adrien's existence what he was about to tell him, "but she's got some head disease--"

"Head disease? You mean like a mental illness?" Max cut him off.

"Yeah, she's up and down all the time, never just mellow. So she plays pinball. Keeps her steady--even." With that, Ryan stood to his full height and moved farther down the bar to scroll through his phone in peace.

"She's bipolar..." Max muttered to himself, looking at Adrian.

He could see it now. She was too hard, too rectangular. All edges and corners. Her hair was too black, and from her roots, he could see a natural blonde peeking through. She had tossed it into a ponytail that's ends tickled her shoulders in messy perfection, bangs falling over her left eye. The light from the game lit up her face. Her makeup was harsh, all black and smudged around her green eyes. She wore a leather jacket and jeans of the same color so tight, he could've put a quarter in her back pocket and seen if it was heads or tails. Big, clunky Doc. Martins the color of blood covered her feet and he could see her nails were painted the same, red color.

Max didn't know it then, but he'd eventually convince her to dye her hair back blonde and paint her nails bright blue. She'd wear skirts and colors other than black and red, though he never would be able to get her to change much about her makeup. He didn't know it then, but some day, he'd be her pinball. He'd be the one to calm her down and keep her steady and even.

He just had to take that first step.

It happened as if he wasn't even doing it. But suddenly, he had left his tap beer on the bar and was making his way towards Adrien. She was magnetic, pulling him. He was cautious, like she was a small animal that was easily frightened.

"Hey," He came up on the left side of the game, watching the little ball bounce around.

"Who are you?" She sounded as rectangular as she looked.

He laughed nervously to himself, "I'm Max."

"I don't know anyone named Max." She said, releasing a grunt when the ball fell to the bottom of the machine and she needed to put in more quarters.

"Well, now you do," He shrugged even though she wasn't looking.

She glanced up at him. Her reaction was film-worthy, her eyes catching his quickly before darting back for a second look. She'd given him a cliche double take. Her eyes were even greener up close, like a forest of evergreen trees.

She studied him for a long moment before flicking her hair away from her eyes and staring back at the metal ball, "Look, I'm not a good person to get close to, so if that's what your trying to do, then I think you should just back off."

"No,  Adrien, I'm not--well, I mean, I am, but--"

She tensed, looking up from the pinball game so suddenly that the ball fell back to the bottom, past the button-controlled arms, and into oblivion. The machine sang at her to add more money, but her eyes stayed on Max, "How did you know my name? I never told you my name."

He realized his mistake and rushed to fix it, "Oh, no. Ryan, the bartender, told me."

"Well, Max," She said, raising an eyebrow at him and saying his name like it was in a seductive language like French, "How is it that you not to get close to me, but get close to me?"

She really looked at him, then. Taking in his shaggy brunette hair and earthy brown eyes. He looked tired, but in an awake way, like he'd gotten up extra early and downed 6 cups of coffee. He hadn't shaven that morning and his chin was covered in a dark stubble. He wore a simple grey v-neck, with jeans, and converse. It was obvious that he was a traveler, that he never stayed in one place for long.

And that made Adrien feel hollow.

She wanted to turn back to her pinball game, but something about Max was magnetic, and she couldn't look away.

He tried not to look confused as he traced the conversation back in his head, "I mean, I want to try to get close to you, but not in the way guys in bars usually do."

"You're not making things any clearer, Max." She said, still ignoring her game.

"Come to dinner with me. There's a barbecue place a few miles out of town--"

"I'm vegan." She cut him off.

He bit his lip to hold in a laugh, "Okay, they have a salad bar. We can talk, I want to get to know you."

"I don't like salad," She said in the same short, rectangular way, "Or eye contact. But, I'll go to dinner with you. Just to ease my curiosity."

She made a face as she spoke the last sentence. If sarcasm had a face, Max was sure that would have been it.

Max smiled like he had when he was a kid, "Good. I'll go pay for my beer and we'll head out."

"If we're doing this, it's on my terms, okay?"

He had already taken a step towards the bar, but upon hearing her words he retreated back to the side of the machine, sounding nervous, "Okay?"

"I get to play one more game of pinball before we go."

A weight lifted off his shoulders, wondering to himself what he thought she was going to say. He didn't waste time pondering it, he'd gotten a date with the rectangular pin-baller from The Bar.

Soon, she'd smooth out to soft curves and bends. And Max had no idea that he was the person who would save the rectangular girl as he watched her on that first night as she played her game of pinball in the dark bar. All he knew was that he was happy, and for the first time in a long time, he was considering staying in the same town for a while.

S.L.B.