Boy meets girl, girl falls in love, blah-blah-blah.
Let me be clear with you from the beginning. This is not that kind of story.
My name is Cait, and I live in the great city of New York. Okay, so maybe I've only lived here for a week and a half...
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So, I may or may not have finished that one drink. It wasn't like a single beer was going to get me drunk at a strange bar in Hell's Kitchen after 9PM on a Monday night when I had to work the next morning at 5AM. Right? The second one I bought for myself, however, that probably didn't help. Especially considering I'd only eaten half a hot dog since I'd gotten off my shift at Starbucks, the alcohol went straight to my head.
I made friends with the bartender, Matt, who brought me an order of fried pickles on the house after I admitted that I'd been stood up. I think he could tell that I didn't quite want to believe it, especially since I didn't leave right away. Part of me hoped Andrew would show up and prove me wrong, but the rest of me knew it wasn't gonna happen. Even if it did happen, what did it matter? I didn't have time for a relationship. I didn't have time for dating. Meeting a cute guy on the street wasn't going to change that I wasn't ready.
After an hour of chatting with Bartender Matt, as I kept calling him, and evading the man in the green shirt, I finally paid my bill - leaving a hefty tip for my new friend - and slipped off my chair at the u-shaped bar. It was past ten o'clock, and the bar was emptying out. A few regulars sat at one table, shouting at the television while they watched whatever sport was playing, and I did a final sweep of the place before waving at Matt and pushing open the door.
The temperature had dropped a few more degrees, and I shivered as the chilly air pricked at the bare skin of my arms. Alcohol provided a convenient temperature barrier, wrapping around me from the inside out so I felt warm and fuzzy, but there was a significant difference from inside and out that still left me feeling a bit cold.
Sighing, I took out my phone and opened up maps so I could find the closest subway station to get home. I was a little fuzzy on my sense of direction in this part of town, and - being tired and tipsy - I decided I would rather look like a tourist than risk getting lost in Manhattan at night. It was to call a cab or an Uber, but I already spent $25 on a single beer tonight after my hefty tip. I couldn't justify the expense, not when I needed to be saving every penny for school.
Instead, I pulled out my headphones and popped them into my ears, opening Rihanna's new album in Spotify, and headed north on Ninth Avenue. Rounding the corner on West 55th Street, I quickly sidestepped - avoiding a collision - before ducking my head back down and picking up the pace.
"Cait!"
Wrinkling my forehead in confusion at what sounded like my name, I tugged out one of the earbuds while slowing down.
"Cait!"
I spun on my heels whilst patting my pockets, assuming it was Bartender Matt following me to return something I'd forgotten inside the bar. I was surprised, however, to see Andrew jogging up to me instead with a look of relief on his face.
"You're late," I muttered as I rolled my eyes, turning away from him and replacing the earbud as I power walked away from him.
"Cait," he reached out a hand to grab my shoulder, turning me toward him, and I groaned as I removed both headphones and wadded up the cord in my hand. "Wait..."
