DISBELIEF, SELF-PITY, AND A MUDSLIDE

“Rose, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Maddie.”

I stared at him in utter disbelief, arms crossed against the deep v-cut of my navy bridesmaid dress. He just watched me back, dark eyes obnoxiously smug as who I had just learned to be his new girlfriend stuck her hand out cheerfully. She smiled at me, unfazed as I hesitated before uncrossing my arms and placing my hand in hers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rose!” Her handshake was as friendly as the expression she offered me, and I felt a twinge of guilt towards the girl. Though honestly, guilt was the last thing on my mind as my feigned grin twitched.

I wanted to rip the hair out of my ex-boyfriend’s dense skull by its thick, black roots.

“Nice to meet you too,” I offered reluctantly, pulling my hand away and returning it to nestle tightly against my body once more. She beamed at me, utterly unaware of the situation as I knew it as she continued on.

“Y’know, Alejandro doesn’t talk much about his college days,” she rambled, stepping back to his side to place a delicate hand on the front of his dark button-up shirt. “It’s so nice to finally meet a friend of his!”

I simply cannot believe this is happening.

“Yeah,” I forced, hoping my heated gaze toward the tall, finely-dressed man conveyed the bloodlust that made my arm hairs stand on end. “He didn’t have many of them.” Maddie laughed, her deep brown hair bouncing as she found my supposed joke hilarious.

“You must join us for dessert,” she said, eyes warm as she looked at me. I broke my heated stare in surprise to give her my very best attempt at a polite smile. “I’d love to hear more about how awkward he definitely was!” 

Alejandro’s responding chuckle was pleasant, light and just how I had remembered it being from… better days. Watching him ruffle her hair and playfully retort to her shot made my heart twinge, my rage turning quickly into hurt.

With an awkward mumble promising I’d try to later, I excused myself from where all of the wedding guests had begun to congregate near the dance floor, ignoring the allure of the multicolored lights and rumbling dance music that seemed to pull more and more people in.

I squeezed brusquely through the throng of people, making my way through the spacious hall to the one place I had awaited an opportunity to escape to all day.

Sliding onto one of the high-top cushioned stools secured next to the dimly lit bar, I popped open my glittering silver clutch to grab a crisp twenty dollar bill. Slapping it down on the deep mahogany in front of me, I let my arms come to rest down against the wood, burying my face in them as I waited for whatever poor soul was bartending to notice my slouched figure.

“Rough night already?” A deep, rumbling voice asked, interrupting my wallowing in self-pity. I sighed, mustering the will to glance up at the man who took my twenty and twirled it around his fingers.

And by God was he fine, his mussed blonde locks nearly seeming to glow from the soft radiance of the warm lighting lining the liquor shelves behind him. His amused amber eyes locked on mine from underneath thick brows, a slight uptilt of his sensual lips bringing attention to his cut jaw and the neatly trimmed stubble decorating it.

“Yes,” I replied defeatedly, posture straightening a bit under his gaze. “How’d you guess?” His chuckle at my dry remark sent a pleasant chill down my spine, and my lips managed to quirk up slightly in response despite the gross feelings roiling in my gut. 

“Between shoving a twenty on the counter before I even got here and looking like you were about to cry, you tell me.” I winced at the bluntness of his statement, but he merely let out another chuckle before continuing, “So what’ll it be?” 

“Twenty dollars worth of whatever you think I need right now,” I mumbled, glancing up at the bartender as he hummed in thought. The smooth baritone of his voice was slightly comforting, and the way his trim form filled out his uniform was definitely lent itself to being a distraction. 

“I got just the thing.” His eyes almost seemed golden in the subdued lighting as he tucked the twenty into his apron, reaching behind the bar to grab a cocktail mixer. “You like sweet things, kid?” I snorted at the nickname and nodded, propping my chin up on one hand as I watched him start my mystery drink by scooping some ice under the bar into a thin-stemmed coupe cocktail glass, proceeding to swiftly shift the ice into the metal mixer to start.

“What’s got such a distressed expression on your pretty little face tonight?” He glanced at me between pours of different liquors into the mixer, not bothering with measuring them out as his hands worked deftly. I bit my lip, glancing away as I let out a hefty sigh.

“The bride and groom know each other through me and my ex, who showed up with a new girl on his arm and a smug grin that made me want to deck him in front of the bridal party,” I muttered, anxiously toying with my fingers. My apparent now-therapist looked up with an empathetic grimace, capping the mixer with the matching top and lifting it up to give it a powerful shake.

“Oof, that’ll do it for sure.” I absently watched the tendons in his muscled forearms shift as he shook my drink, his eyes locked on my tense expression in intrigue. “By the looks of you sitting at this bar all by yourself, I’m guessing you came without a date?” I pursed my lips, shifting my gaze down to the bar.

“Yes, because I thought I was confident enough to make it through the night without relying on some random arm candy to make it seem like I’m doing okay without him,” I confessed, fighting back the tears starting to prick the corners of my eyes. “I’d never even been on a second date before he came and suddenly it was two years of dating on and off and several promises of marriage later when the bastard finally walked away with my dignity and all of my firsts. It was a mistake, all of it, but he didn’t have to lie to his girlfriend about who I am and shove her in my face.” 

My lip began to tremble and I swallowed, taking in a shaky breath as I tried to compose myself. Way to go, spilling your guts to an utter stranger… but at least someone knows the truth now.

The sound of glass sliding against wood met my ears and I looked up, seeing a lithe, calloused hand push a glass my way. I blinked through my forming tears as I accepted it, swirling the glass lightly in curiosity as I took in the creamy cocktail. 

“Well, the way I see it,” the dazzling bartender flashed me a soft, sympathetic smile as he brought out a couple shot glasses, “the guy is just trying to make you feel bad because you truly are better off without him. I mean, look at you! With your looks, you could’ve had your pick of any guy, but you still came here by yourself knowing full well he’d be here.” He poured me a couple shots of cream liqueur, pushing them toward me as I laughed.

“Is it in your job description to sweet talk your customers, too?” I joked to ease the tension, feeling oddly comforted by his affirmation. I lifted my mystery drink to my lips as I raised a brow, and he shrugged.

“Only the cute ones,” he winked, and I nearly choked on my drink. He barked out a charming, genuine laugh as I cleared my throat, his eyes crinkling up at the edges in an endearing way.

Blush staining my cheeks, I took another sample of my drink, desperate to get some alcohol in my system. Eyebrows raising in surprised delight, I reveled in the thick, creamy taste, a soft hum of contentment escaping my lips as I continued to sip it. 

“A Mudslide,” the beautiful man before me commented, resting his forearms on the bar as he watched me enjoy his creation, “You looked like you’d far rather be spooning out a tub of ice cream than drowning your sorrows in liquor, so I chose the closest thing.” His outlook was strangely heartwarming, and I reluctantly acknowledged he was right; the last thing I wanted to do was get trashed when my ex was still around, especially since the bride - one of my best friends - had made it a point to make me promise not to cause any drama at her wedding.

Oh well, downing a wonderfully rich drink while chatting up a hot bartender wasn’t the worst way to end the night.