I Was Made for Loving You {Laurinah}

When one door closes...

The day Lauren lost her job, it was raining. Not the cathartic kind of rainstorm that would've made Lauren forget her growing feelings of depression, either - a slow, steady rain that slowly soaked miserably through the bottom of Lauren's coat.

The plan was to go home, and actually try to cook dinner for once. Or, rather, that had been the plan before the layoffs reached Lauren's department and the rain had set in.

Now, the bus stop seemed farther and farther away the more Lauren walked, and the bar at the end of the block looked so warm and comfortable.

Maybe she could get drunk enough to forget that she no longer had the money to buy drinks.

The rain got harder, pounding on her umbrella, and Lauren sighed and started to hurry down the sidewalk towards the welcoming lights of the bar.

By the time she finally bumped the door open with her hip and slipped inside, shaking the water off her umbrella, Lauren was relatively sure that everything inside her purse was wet and unrecoverable.

She sighed, looking around. The bar wasn't like the noisy, big ones she'd gone to occasionally with coworkers. It was a good size, but smaller, with tables scattering the floor, a baby grand piano near the rear wall, and an ATM in the corner. The lighting was warm, almost like diffused candlelight.

The level of noise was more like a coffee shop than anything else, with occasional bursts of laughter and rowdiness from the crowded tables. When Lauren finally glanced over to the bar itself, the bartender was already looking at her, a friendly smile on her face.

Opening the front of her coat, Lauren walked over, setting her purse down on on the bar and resting her forearms beside it.

"You look like someone who didn't plan to be here," the bartender said.

"It's miserable outside," Lauren sighed.

"Hopefully it lets up before I have to go out," the bartender mused. "What can I get you?"

Two shots later, Lauren was resting her chin on her fist and ripping her napkin into shreds with her other hand while the bartender - Ally, Lauren had learned - kept an eye on her, wiping the counter down.

"Do you need another, or would you rather talk to me?" Ally asked, leaning on the counter in front of Lauren.

"Both," Lauren grumbled. "Can I have a rum and coke?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

Lauren's napkin fluttered off of the counter, and she heaved a sigh, turning around after a moment with the intent of picking it up. She looked down, trying to decide whether getting off her stool was worth it.

"Nah," she mumbled.

The back door of the bar slammed shut, drawing Lauren's attention, and she glanced up just in time to see a woman in a big denim bomber jacket and dark jeans sit down on the piano bench. The woman set her messenger bag down on the ground, flinching at the loud sound that the door had made.

Lauren squinted, trying to get a better look at the woman in the dim lighting, but she ducked her head, seeming shy, her short, golden blonde curls obscuring her face.

Lauren was about to turn around, when the woman started to play hesitantly, nodding slowly with the music, the notes flowing from the piano like water.

She straightened up slightly, her body starting to relax as she played. Lauren caught a glimpse of her profile, a statuesque nose and soft, pouty lips.

And then, those lips parted, and she started to sing.

"I will leave my heart at the door...I won't say a word, they've all been said before, you know..."