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Scarlett had seen plenty of things over the past twenty-five years of her life and most of it didn't thrill her like it probably should have. After all, she lived in England. You couldn't walk twenty feet without tripping over something that had been built hundreds of years ago, even thousands of years, for example. What did surprise her was the fact that there was a man across the pub where she was enjoying her Friday night post-work beer who was very clearly staring at her. Scarlett liked to think she was pretty enough to attract men but she had had rotten luck with it ever since she was fifteen and started caring about them. Scarlett definitely didn't mind being looked at but she wasn't the only girl at the bar and there was no guarantee that it was her the man was looking at. That was until the bartender came over with a fresh drink (and Scarlett's favourite, at that) and told her it was from the gentlemen in the corner. Scarlett blushed as red as her name and tried not to look at him. But she couldn't help it.
He was good looking. Really good looking. It was darker in the corner he was sitting (as was the case with most pubs, especially the older ones that were small and cramped), but Scarlett could still make out his features. Messy black hair fell over the most shocking pair of blue eyes Scarlett had ever seen. His nose was long and aquiline, and his jaw solid. He had the mouth of an angel, full and soft and smirking just the smallest bit. Scarlett thought he would approach her, but he seemed as content to watch as she was. It was just a tad voyeuristic, but Scarlett doubted her drink was drugged as it had been served by the bartender. She pushed her old one aside and took a sip. Perfectly made. A sigh fell from her lips. She lifted her glass to the man, who raised his own back, but still made no move towards her. Maybe he was just feeling generous. It was a Friday after all. Maybe he'd just gotten a big promotion at work and felt like celebrating by buying someone he thought attractive a drink. If he found Scarlett attractive, of course. The way he was looking at her made it seem like he did.
A shiver ran down Scarlett's spine, violent enough to make her whole body shudder. The person sitting next to her gave her a funny look but didn't comment. Scarlett rolled her shoulders and ran a hand through her brown hair. She glanced at the guy again. His gaze had wandered elsewhere, but Scarlett had a feeling in her stomach that he was still interested in her. She hoped he wasn't a stalker. The bar was on a main street, though, and it wasn't that late. She doubted anyone would try to abduct her here.
When she was ready to go home the man was still sitting in the corner, drinking a large glass of what looked like water and looking at his cell phone. Scarlett approached him feeling a little nervous and cleared her throat to get his attention. He looked up and smiled when he saw it was her.
“I just wanted to say cheers for the drink,” Scarlett said. “I really appreciated it. I do have a question, though.”
“Are you going to ask why I bought it for you?” the man replied in a low voice as smooth as silk that made Scarlett's knees go weak. She passed it off as a belated effect of the booze; she was a little bit tipsy after all.
“No,” she replied. “I wanted to ask what made you order that particular drink.”
“You look like that particular kind of girl,” the man replied. He grinned, wolfishly, showing strong, white teeth. “My name is Hunter.”
“Scarlett. Jones.”
“It's nice to meet you, Scarlett Jones. Do you come here often?”
“That's a terrible pick up line,” Scarlett replied and Hunter laughed. “No, I don't usually drink.”
“That's a shame,” Hunter said. “You're the most interesting thing that's walked in here in a long time.”
Scarlett's stomach warmed and her chest tightened. “Maybe I'll have to stop by more often.”
“Maybe you will.” Scarlett could have sworn that when he smiled again she saw two sharp teeth. “Have a good night, yeah?” Scarlett blinked, feeling like she was almost in a trance, and lightly shook her head to clear it.
“Thanks,” she said. “You too.” She turned and walked through the tight, short corridor to the front door and out into the cold, shuddering. She rolled her shoulder and glanced behind her. The door had swung shut automatically but she could have sworn that she could still feel Hunter staring at her. She flagged down a cab to take her home, preferring to pay for a fare rather than deal with the Friday night bus crowd. As it was the back of the cab reeked of alcohol. It reminded her of nights when she'd be out with her friends and get so wasted that she could remember anything when she woke up the next morning, somehow having managed to get into her own bed and not someone else's.
Scarlett lived in a nicer part of town, on a street with a row of identical-looking houses differing only in the colour of the front door and the state of the front garden. When she had first moved there she used to get confused and more than once had tried to get into the wrong building but now, a year later, she could find her way home with her eyes closed. This particular block of buildings had been converted into flats sometime after WWII. Scarlett lived on the second floor, right between someone who blared music downstairs and someone who frequently had very loud sex, with what seemed to be a different woman every time. She'd learned to live with it. Previous noise complaints hadn't achieved anything anyway.
When she stepped inside it was surprisingly quiet, but considering how early it still was for a Friday she figured that both her neighbors were still out on the town. She went about her normal night time routine, thinking about her encounter in the bar. As much as she fantasized about guys being attracted to her, she didn't really want to date anyone. Her last relationship had been a mess, and being exclusive had meant surprisingly a lot of drama. It had been exhausting. Right now she was happy being single, or so she liked to tell herself.
She paused at the kitchen counter pouring a glass of water to counteract the extra drink she had had. Her life suddenly seemed mundane. Not that long ago she would have been out on a Friday until the break of dawn Saturday morning, bar hopping and laughing and causing all kinds of trouble, and then spend all of Saturday sleeping off her hangover before dragging herself to her shitty part-time job the next day still exhausted and achy. Now she was asleep by eleven most nights no matter if it was a weekend or not. She had a more serious job now, with no Sunday shifts, and she had cut back on alcohol. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she had stayed and sat with Hunter. Would he have tempted her into a night of booze and debauchery? More importantly, why was she still thinking about him? All he had done was buy her a drink. Plenty of guys had done that for her before. No, it was something else. He had a pull to him, one that made Scarlett want to turn around, walk out the door and take a cab right back to the bar.
She didn't. But that didn't mean she didn't want to.