Last Call

by Kelly, A. S.

  Niall

  I didn’t mean to approach her, but finding myself standing next to her at the bar, and watching her struggle must’ve woken an instinct: something that had been hibernating inside me after everything that’s happened lately.

  Tyler was right: time seems to have stopped still. I don’t know whether it tickled at that subtle strand of nostalgia, buried deep in everyone who leaves, or whether it has decided to punish the terrible decisions I’ve made: like the decision not to invite Jordan Lane to the school prom all those years ago. I was too stupid to admit that I liked a ‘nerd’, so I went with someone else. But that’s all in the past. It went out of fashion as quickly as I did.

  From the way she’s looking at me, I can tell that she doesn’t recognise me. Or maybe, even worse, she doesn’t remember me at all. I can’t decide which is more damaging to my ego: either way, I don’t come across too well.

  “Okay, maybe you don’t remember,” I begin, uncomfortably. “I guess it’s been a while.”

  Am I actually sweating?

  The barman places two drinks on the counter, catching her attention.

  “Sorry, I just have to…”

  “Oh, please, let me.”

  “Thank you.” She smiles warmly and grabs the glasses. “Have a nice evening,” she says, before turning quickly and walking back into the room.

  “Wow, mate,” the barman says, interrupting my thoughts. “You sure have a way with the ladies.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Weren’t you trying to hit on her?”

  “Me?” I say, almost offended. “Don’t kid yourself.” I sink onto a stool and try to gather up the shattered remains of my pride. “Could you get me two pints of Guinness, while you’re at it?”

  He raises his hands innocently and goes to the other end of the bar. Meanwhile, I try to discreetly scan the room, letting my eyes drop for a few seconds to her table. She isn’t looking at me. She didn’t even turn around once. She ignored me – and she’s continuing to do so.

  I am not happy with how I’ve come out of this.

  “Here you go.” The barman places the two pints in front of me and I leave him more cash than necessary, hoping that he’ll take it as a hint not to tell anyone about the total arse I’ve just made of myself. I grab the glasses and head back towards Tyler.

  “What the hell was that?” he asks as soon as I’ve sat down.

  “Mmm?”

  “That’s how you got all those women into bed with you?”

  “What women? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Don’t blame me. You know, rumours, gossip.”

  “Gossip? About me?”

  “Well, you were the main attraction of this place for so long.”

  “Attraction?” I ask, almost amused.

  “Let’s just say you were a bit of a V.I.P. around here.”

  “You guys are messed up.”

  Tyler shrugs and takes a few sips of his beer. “There isn’t much to do around here, and there aren’t many people who have managed to leave.”

  “I didn’t do anything newsworthy.”

  “Maybe not to you. But to us – to me – you’re an idol.”

  “Just because I left?”

  “You were successful. All the interviews, the photos. Your face is still in the window of the local Intersport.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You’re the symbol of Dublin to us.”

  “But I don’t play anymore.”

  “That doesn’t mean that people have forgotten you. To us, you’re the one who made it. And you always will be.”

  “Then why does everyone hate me?”

  “They don’t hate you.”

  “Well, it’s not like I have a great reputation in this city.”

  “That’s just the other side to success.”

  “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a little?”

  “I just tell it like it is, mate. Here, you’re almost a celebrity.”

  I sip my beer as Tyler’s words begin to take shape in my mind. I place the glass on the table and look at him.

  “There’s no way she doesn’t know who I am.”

  “What?”

  “At the bar. She pretended not to recognise me.”

  “Help me out, man. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Jordan Lane.”

  “Oh…now I’m with you.”

  “She acted as if she didn’t know who I was.”

  “Mmm.”

  “But that isn’t possible – right?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that. Anything I say will make you look like a dickhead, and I don’t think you’ll like it.”

  “Why would she pretend?” I ask, more to myself than to Tyler.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  Tyler’s right. I shouldn’t let this bother me: I definitely don’t need the extra stress. But fuck, it really stung – more than it stung to see her kiss Steven Hill on the dance floor that night.

  “Niall?” Tyler asks, dragging me back to the present.

  “Mmm?”

  “She’s looking this way.”

  I turn without even attempting to mask my thoughts from her.

  “Maybe you should go over there. Try to work out what’s going on. Or maybe you should give her something that she won’t be able to forget.”

  I glance back at my friend.

  “Do you think I should?”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve just got back in town. I live with my parents, and my daughter hates me. Do you reckon that’s a good enough reason?”

  “But she doesn’t know any of that. Besides, I really think you need a distraction. How long has it been since you went out with a woman?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  And that’s the worst thing.

  “Then what are you waiting for? What do you have to lose?”

  What I have to lose is my pride; and it’s pretty much the only thing I have left.

  I gulp down half my pint and stand up.

  “I actually think I’m going to talk to her.”

  “I like this new you!”

  Tyler lifts his pint triumphantly: a sign of approval. I turn and look towards her table, praying that she’ll get up and leave before I have the chance to cross the entire room and approach her.

  “What are you waiting for?” Tyler calls from behind me.

  I’m trying to find my balls.

  “Nothing.”

  “Go on, then.”

  “I’m going.”

  “Do I have to wait for you?” There’s an unappreciated thread of sarcasm woven into his voice.

  “Don’t worry about it. I can find my way home,” I tell him, before taking a deep breath and diving head-first into the past.

  Jordan

  “Oh, my God.” I put my drink down before I drown myself in it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s coming this way.”

  “Who?” Anya asks, straightening up in her chair. She goes to turn around, but I stop her.

  “No, Jesus! Don’t turn around!”

  “What’s going on?”

  I shut up suddenly before I can give her a response; he’s already appeared behind us.

  “That wasn’t nice.”

  Jesus Christ. If his smile melts my panties, his voice makes them disappear altogether.

  He grabs the free chair and makes himself comfortable.

  “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “But I thanked you for the drinks,” I manage to miraculously spit out.

  “I think a hug would’ve been more appropriate.”

  I sip at my pink gin and decide to follow his provocative lead.

  “Maybe a ‘welcome back’ kiss would’ve been better.”

  He smiles cheekily at me, and I cross my legs tightly under the table.

  “That definitely would’ve been better.”

>   “I can imagine. But, you know, you have to earn these things.”

  Anya shuffles in the seat beside me, her disbelieving gaze glued to me. She never would’ve expected me to say something like that – and to be honest, I would never have expected it, either.

  I place my empty glass on the table and he watches me, before lifting his eyes to meet mine. Jesus: his gaze alone could chew up my panties and swallow them whole.

  “Let’s start with another round,” he says, taking my glass. “For you and your friend.”

  “Her friend was just leaving.” Anya leaps to her feet. “It’s late and I have somewhere to be tomorrow. And, let’s face it, Kerry,” she says, turning to him. “I don’t really want to be a third wheel. And your friend over there,” she says, pointing to our table, where Tyler is still sat, “isn’t exactly my type.”

  Niall smiles, satisfied.

  “So, have a good evening. And, you,” she says, looking at me, “don’t even think about going home alone. Understood?” She leans down to plant a kiss on my cheek, then disappears quickly between the throngs of people, leaving us alone.

  “Your friend is very wise.”

  “I think you mean drunk. Like every Friday night.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m sober as anything.”

  “Then how come you let me come over?”

  “Maybe I had nothing better to do.”

  He nods slowly. “In that case… Let’s speed the process along.”

  “You’re not coming home with me, Niall Kerry. I’m not that desperate.”

  His hand flies to his chest in mock offence.

  “Oh, come off it. I’m sure your ego is fine.”

  “Let me buy you another drink and we can talk about it.”

  “I’m not changing my mind.”

  “And I won’t do anything to make you change it. Promise.”

  He heads towards the bar and I let myself enjoy the sight of his backside moving under his dark, skin-tight jeans.

  Why do men have to age so damn well, when I can’t seem to avoid gravity’s deathly pull, no matter how many times a week I go jogging?

  And why the hell am I staring at his behind? Why did I even start playing this game? Maybe we’ve switched brains by accident. Why did I let Anya leave me alone with him?

  I need to find a way out of this. This isn’t like me – I don’t let myself flirt with strange men in pubs, getting hit on in exchange for a few orgasms and nothing more…

  Wait.

  Did I just think about orgasms?

  Before I can even begin to formulate another of these alien thoughts, Niall appears at the table with another glass of that stupid pink liquid for me, and another pint for him.

  “Everything okay?” he asks, studying my expression.

  Here we go. This is the moment to do a complete U-turn, to tell him that it’s getting late, that I have to go home and feed my cat. To tell him that I’m not cut out for these things, for one-night-stands, for meaningless sex; for men like him. But then I look at him: his bright, mischievous eyes, his confident grin, his slightly-greying beard, his long, unkempt hair, and I realise that he wants me. He wants to stay here with me, to try it on with me, and maybe even to get me into bed. It’s something I haven’t seen for years. Something I’d forgotten I liked.

  “Absolutely.”

  I grab the glass and take a few gulps, trying to ward off any negative thoughts.

  I don’t have to go home. I don’t have to run back and feed Caramel – and yes, I really do have a cat, and he can definitely survive a few more hours without me – and I don’t have to be a good girl all the time. I’ve been doing it my whole life, and it’s never got me anywhere. I live alone in a tiny apartment above a pizzeria, with only my cat and the sound of my own thoughts for company. Oh, and my broken heart.

  I can let myself be drawn in by the bad boy for just one night: one night of total madness. I deserve it. I’m a free woman, and I want something to remember.

  “I didn’t think that was you, at the bar, before.”

  “Have I changed that much?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.

  “You’ve got older.”

  “Wow, thanks.”

  “But I guess I just didn’t expect it.”

  “What? To find me here?”

  I nod.

  “I’ve just got back in town.”

  “Have you moved back here?”

  “Let’s just say that I have some family issues to sort out.”

  “I get it.”

  I take another sip, trying to ease the tension. I’ve never been good at these games, and I’m out of practice.

  “You don’t look like you’ve aged a day.”

  “Really?”

  He lets his gaze slide over me, travelling over my chest and falling finally on my lips. I part them instinctively as his eyes reach up to mine.

  “You’re still beautiful.”

  I smile.

  “Maybe even more beautiful.”

  “Is this how you got all those women?”

  “What women?”

  “You know…the papers, the internet…”

  “Not this again. Why does everyone here believe everything they read?”

  “Life can get quite boring around here.”

  “I can think of a few ways to ease the boredom.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He nods, his eyes ablaze.

  “Are you playing all your cards just to get me into bed?”

  “I usually save them until afterwards. When we’re already in bed.”

  His words shiver along my skin.

  “Are you promising me a night I’ll never forget?”

  “I’m promising you a wild night, where you can let yourself go; where anything is possible.”

  I look past his smile, his eyes, his voice. His words are my biggest problem now – who knows whether he’s practiced them in front of a mirror, or they just came naturally to him in the heat of the moment. The fact is that I believe them, blindly – I don’t need another drink for that. But to go home with him, I’d definitely need another one of those pink glasses.

  “Do you want another?” He gestures towards my empty glass, predictably reading my thoughts.

  “Why not?”

  Well done, Jordan. So confident, indifferent.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He gets up, grabbing our glasses. I tilt my head, following the movement of his backside once again.

  Yet I never used to like him – or, rather, I was never interested in him. Maybe because I knew I definitely wasn’t his type at school, and I never thought I’d be his type now. But who cares?

  I’m here for one night: nothing more, nothing less. And that’s exactly what he gives women, right? And that’s exactly what I want from him.

  Jordan

  “I’ve been asking myself all evening whether or not you’re wearing any panties under a dress that tight.” He rolls over, his fingers playing at the hem of my dress, slowly lifting it up. “Oh, Jesus,” he says through gritted teeth. His hands move around to my butt cheeks, his lips wrapping around my earlobe as I lean my head back, giving him everything he wants.

  “Now let’s feel how wet you are.”

  I open my eyes suddenly, bringing my hands to my chest before it explodes; but as soon as I move, the hammering pain in my temples worsens, making me grab my head instead.

  I turn slowly, trying to work out what the hell happened. In the darkness of my room, I realise that, thankfully, I’m in my own bed. The hammering begins to slow down. I slide my hands away from my head and prop myself up on my elbows, trying to drag myself into a sitting position. When I scan the room, looking for signs of how I ended up here, my gaze lands on a figure standing in the doorway.

  I don’t cry out, because my breath catches in my throat at the sight of his bare chest.

  “Good morning.”

  His sleepy smile is even more dangerous than
his pantie-melting one.

  “I fed the cat.” He steps towards me, his bare feet treading through my carpet, as he carries Caramel in his arms. “It was crying, so…” He strokes her head with his huge hand, and…wait.

  Hands. Fingers. Underwear. Fire.

  Oh, no.

  He puts down the cat, who immediately leaps onto the bed, padding towards me to say good morning.

  “Is it a girl or a boy?” he asks, nodding towards her.

  A girl, obviously – or she never would’ve wrapped herself around you just for a little attention.

  “G-girl.”

  I’m stammering.

  And I’ve brought a man home.

  And we had sex – I think.

  At this point, I hope we did.

  “I was just about to make some coffee.” He nods at the door behind him.

  “It’s the machine next to the fridge.”

  “Okay. I’ll give you some time to… Well…”

  “What?” I ask him, only realising now that I’m completely naked. “Oh, Jesus!” I hurriedly pull the bed sheet around me as he – bastard that he is – laughs heartily.

  “You don’t have to cover yourself up. Believe me, there’s nothing under there that should be covered.”

  His smooth voice fires up the heat between my legs.

  “I’ll give you a minute,” he says, calmly, before turning and taking his jean-clad backside into my living room.

  There it is.

  Now I remember exactly how we got here.

  I pull myself wearily out of bed, waiting for the familiar sound of someone rummaging in the fridge before heaving a sigh of relief. I quickly head into the bathroom, dragging the sheet behind me, and stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink.

  “Oh, fuck!” I yell at the sight of my face, staring back at me.

  “Everything okay?” he calls from the other room.

  “Everything’s great!” My voice is no more than a squeak – but come on! He saw me, looking like this? Yesterday’s make-up is still plastered around my eyes. My hair is sticking up at all angles, deep bags frame my tired eyes, and… What the hell is that? I glance at my neck, where a purple mark is making an appearance.

  “What the hell…?” I pull the sheet away from my body and do a quick check-over.