Noble Intentions

Content Warning: This story contains themes of unwanted advances and emotional discomfort.

I made my way down the dingy steps into the basement pub-slash-restaurant that I always swear I’ll never visit again. The lights were always too harsh. The music was always far too loud with too many people cheering at the four different sports that always seemed to be on. There were always too many people. Too many of the wrong sort of people. People who were looking to talk at me. People who were looking to talk about themselves. But it was the same everywhere else– at work, at home, wherever I went. So tonight, I descended to a very familiar place I hoped would bring something different. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I was sure I would know when I found it.

I pushed the door open and the smell of grease and overly spiced curry hit me. The place had always been ambiguous– was it more restaurant or pub? Whichever it was, it remained unpleasant. Despite knowing this, I walked towards the bar anyway, armed with faux confidence, a forced bright smile, and tired eyes.

My Stella came in a slightly warm glass, fresh out of the dishwasher. It was sweating profusely, as if to give away my anxiety. I thanked the owner as usual, who seemed pleased to see me, and we caught up like always. I surrendered information and stories without much resistance nor restriction. It had been a long week– a lonely, empty week, and at this point I would have talked to anyone who would humour me. He asked me questions without really listening to anything I had to say, and after a while, drifted back to how business was slowing down since school had started, how his wife wanted him home more and how his children were doing. I listened, asking questions politely, gasping and laughing at all the right times. We all– love an audience, don’t we?

From the corner of my eye, I could see someone watching me. When I glanced over at him, he simply adjusted his glasses and returned his attention back to the TV. I let my gaze linger on him a little longer than I should have, drinking makes me either bold or careless– sometimes both. When he finally glanced back and our eyes met- I gave him a small, apologetic smile for staring and focused back on my drink and the owner. What was I doing? Rudely staring at strangers, apparently.

I downed the rest of my pint and made my way to the back where the smoking area was. Past the storeroom and kitchen, I arrived in the little enclosed courtyard that was fenced off behind the underground track. The air smelled like takeaway, cigarette smoke, and somehow regrets. The whole place, was illuminated by a half-working security light that flickered for dramatic effect. Charming.

I skirted around the pint glasses left dotted around the floor and sat on the bench under the “no glasses outside" sign, savouring the irony. I inhaled a cigarette that I wasn’t even sure I wanted and, as I exhaled, I wondered: Just… What was I doing here again? I always seem to find myself here with such sheer determination for something to happen, but once I am here, I never quite know what I was expecting.

He appeared shortly after, nose wrinkling at the stench as he leaned against the grey, crumbling brick wall of the establishment. He sipped his drink as if it could have chased the bad smells away, and left it on the windowsill amongst the other discarded glasses. He crossed his arms, smirking before he spoke.

“You know those things can kill you.”

His eyes hovered over the cigarette between my fingers. I let out a gentle chuckle before taking another drag. Thank you, Captain Obvious. My head and eyes were heavy- with alcohol and hoping. I smiled gently for nobody in particular.

“So can breathing, drinking and driving cars.. But we still do all those things, do we not? What is life without a few pleasures?”

I watched him take another mouthful of his drink. His eyes never left me. “Touché, my dear. I agree with your philosophy completely. Although-” He pushed his glasses up, “I am sure there are other pleasures that definitely kill you a lot slower and smell a lot less.”

His gaze lingered on my cigarette, and the smirk softened into something almost sympathetic. I took another drag as he continued, “But again, if you are going to indulge in vices– why stop at just one? There are plenty of other things that can give you pleasure.”

“Oh, who said I stopped at just one?” My head lolled to the side as I ashed all over the floor and my tights. “I also enjoy drinking and talking to strangers.” I chewed on the inside of my lip to stop myself, but maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe just the gnawing ache. I couldn’t help but tell him. “I am hungry for conversation. To feel something. To talk to someone, anyone.” My admission left me a little raw– I just wanted to talk. To laugh. For someone to talk to me and not at me.

“Is that so? Conversation?”

I could see a playful smirk growing in the flickering dim light, his eyes filled with intrigue as he pushed himself off the wall and sat next to me. The wood creaked a little beneath his weight as he crossed one leg over the other; back against the wall in contrast to me hunched over myself. Our stances were complete opposites: him open and relaxed; me folded in, defensive. He was close enough for me to smell his aftershave; sharp, citrusy but oceanic. I looked at him properly for the first time and realised he was beautiful. Achingly so.

Why would someone this beautiful want to talk to me?

His voice sounded like velvet. “Well, you’ve come to the right man then, I am excellent at conversation– if I can say so myself.”

I chuckled at the brazenness; how do people do that? Just say things like that?

“Are you now? And what makes you think so?”

I looked him straight in the eyes. Don’t disappoint me. Give me a real answer. Make me laugh. Let me feel something. Anything.

He raised his eyebrow, a mischievous smile growing on his face as if I’d just asked him his favourite ice cream flavour. His voice lowered into a soft purr.

“Oh please, let me count the ways then.” With his slender hands, he began ticking off the points on his fingers. “For starters, I’ve perfected the art of speaking. Choice words in all the right places. I have excellent banter, the right tone, the right expressions..”

As he continued with his list, I could not help but laugh– how can someone just say these things with a straight face? Does he have no shame? I shook my head, biting my lip to hold in my laughter as I watched him in my drunken stupor.

“Surely you don’t believe all of that, do you? How are you just saying these things?”

His smile only deepened with my laughter. Everyone likes a bit of positive reinforcement regardless of whether people mean it or not. I wondered if he knew that I was amused- in awe of his confidence and brazen nature.

“Ah but you misunderstand– it’s not about belief. It’s about experience.” He chuckled softly as he watched me biting my lips before leaning in even closer.

“Confidence is everything. You can say whatever you like with enough arrogance and a charming enough smile.”

I kept shaking my head, casting my eyes onto the ground– a half sigh or maybe a laugh of exasperation escaped me as I crushed my cigarette stub under my boot. Confidence? What does that even mean? How does one just say things without truly believing in them? Don’t you need conviction? And what if you are wrong? How can you just be so sure in what you say? And what if it’s not received well? Do you not care?

I looked at him still on the bench as I stood up, unable to stop the smile on my face. I like you. You can do what I cannot.

“I’m going back in for another drink.. Do you.. want one?” I shuffled from foot to foot, smiling and biting my lip with anticipation and hope. It wasn't a subtle invite. I wanted to talk some more. I wanted to understand how you do it. How can you just say what you like without a single care in the world?

My heart melted a little when his smile widened at my invitation, his gaze following me as I stood up. He pushed himself off the bench, straightening up to his full height. He was a fair few inches taller than me, built and toned under his clothes. I could feel my heart pull a little and I averted my gaze.

“Why, I’d be honoured,” he purred and I inhaled sharply, ashamed and embarrassed that I wanted his attention so badly. “Lead the way, then.” He extended his arm in a gentlemanly gesture, waiting for me to lead him back inside. Before opening the door back in–I shook my head in disbelief -wait, is this really happening?

We ordered our drinks and found a quiet corner to sit in– my gaze never left him as we drank in a charged silence. He was playing hard to get; his attention everywhere but on me, forcing me to lead the conversation. How are you doing this to me?

“You know- I never quite got your name.”

He was taking a slow, deliberate sip of his drink. When I broke the silence, he finally returned my gaze– head tilting slightly as he raised his eyebrows.

“Ah, my apologies. You’ve been enjoying my delightful company without even knowing my name.” He put his drink down and there was that beautiful smile again, “I am Joshua. Everyone calls me Josh. And you are?”

I put one elbow on the table as I curved forward, propping my head up as I admired him. Heat crept into my cheeks with every moment we sat together. Maybe his brazenness had rubbed off onto me; I was shamelessly staring.

“Miyu– nice to meet you… Josh.” My voice dropped to a whisper without meaning to, almost as if telling a secret.

“Miyu.” Josh repeated my name softly as if rolling a sweet in his mouth. “What a pretty name. It suits you.”

He reclined back in his seat languidly, crossing his legs again and taking another long theatrical sip of his drink; his gaze flickered from my face onto the condensation down the side of my glass. I’d drunk far too much and far too quickly, but I didn’t care. I needed as much liquid courage as I could stomach to shake the anxiety off. I, too, wanted to be that carefree. That beautiful. That confident.

As the evening went on, laughter, anecdotes and jokes flowed as freely as the drinks. This was so much fun. So so much fun. The whole world fell away for a little bit as I watched him; drunk on his presence, charm and worst of all, attention and conversation.

Finally someone who listens. Someone who is engaged. Sardonic, compelling and unapologetically himself. We bickered over everything and nothing; life, philosophy and view points. I was a fish on a hook- pulling and gasping for air as he reeled me in with every comment, smile and look. At the back of my mind, a small thought lingered: Wouldn’t it be nice– if this went on forever?

We burst into the smoking area for what seemed like the millionth time; both of us giddy and giggling like school children, intoxicated by each other’s company. He gestured for a cigarette as I lit mine. I scoffed but handed him my pack, watching him light his own.

“I thought you were the paragon of health. Why the change of heart, hm?” The night air was crisp and cold in contrast to the heat of the indoors and my flushed face; my head was heavy despite how light I felt.

“Oh my dear Miyu, even paragons of health are allowed their pleasures and vices.” His eyes glimmered with indulgence and he looked more dressed with a cigarette between his lips. “Besides, who said I didn’t indulge in the occasional guilty pleasure?”

I shook my head again before I melted onto the wall behind me. At this point, I was fully aware of what position I was putting myself in; I had had too much to drink and the antidote to my problems was going to poison me from the inside out. I could barely focus on the conversation, and resorted to taking desperate drags with my eyes closed, hoping to sober up.

And suddenly, I found his face far too close to mine. My eyes widened in surprise; too close, far, far too close. When I tried to shuffle away, his hand was already on my thigh- holding me in place. When I looked up at him, Josh laughed, and I couldn’t tell if he was joking with me or mocking me.

“Miyu– Miyu– why the surprise? We are having fun– are we not?”

A shiver ran down my spine as his breath washed over my face. His grip on my thigh tightened the more I tried to wriggle away. What happened? I thought everything was going well, that we were having fun. We were going to do this forever- so why? Why are you doing this?

“Josh.. I..” I couldn’t finish my sentence; my head spun as my throat and words suddenly dried up. Why- it was going so well, why did you suddenly have to become like.. Everyone else? I tried to shake my head and force a smile- we were doing so well. So so well. Please don’t spoil this now.

But something had changed; everything we’d built over the last few hours seemed to have disappeared, crumbled away to reveal something that I should have seen coming. Was what we had not enough? Was our conversation not enough for you? Was laughing, joking, and being open with each other not enough for you? Why are you now trying to take something that I could not give?

I couldn’t tell if I was nauseous from the alcohol or from the situation. We had been so happy; we had laughed all night and been open and seemingly vulnerable with each other– sharing hopes and aspirations. But everything had changed in a split second. Josh’s hand was still on my thigh, gripping it tightly now, as if he was trying to claim ownership in a twisted way. It felt like a cold, hard slap to my face.

“Josh… Please..” I was pleading now.. My breath quickened in panic. Please go back to how you were…. Please can we go back to what we had. But instead of letting go, he circled even closer now, his face almost touching mine. I could smell the cigarette and the alcohol on his breath and feel it on my skin. His voice was soft, almost tender but there’s something dark and menacing in his tone that I can only describe as predatory.

“Shh... Shh… Don’t talk...”

Don’t talk? But I thought the talking was the fun bit. A wave of fear washed over me as he brushed my hair behind my ear, his eyes raking over me, a prize to be claimed. I couldn’t think straight. I sat there frozen in a panic. The alcohol in my system had made my mind fuzzy but not enough to numb my senses nor fear. Please. Don’t. Touch. Me. Josh chuckled, but unlike before, it was now cruel and sadistic.

“Is this.. Not what you wanted? To feel something? To be known? To be...wanted?”

His words felt like a stab to my chest. It was true. I had been craving connection, to feel something, to talk to someone– to maybe even dare to be a little interesting to someone this beautiful. He had played the part perfectly. But this? This was a betrayal– a nightmare coming to life. He had turned everything I had wanted against me; punishing me for the very things I wanted and offered. I shake my head weakly, and I tried to push his hands off me, desperate for him to stop touching me, to stop talking, and to get away from him.

“No... Not like this... No...”

At that moment, another patron stepped into the dim courtyard and regarded us with interest and concern. His eyebrows raised when he saw my panicked state and Josh’s posturing. I felt Josh’s grip loosen immediately and his eyes darted towards him with irritation.

I seized the opportunity to leave– excusing myself and standing up, stumbling through the door back towards the bar. I needed to get away from him. Far, far away from him. The people I had disregarded earlier became my protection against him. How, how did things end up like this?

I can hear the door open behind me; footsteps that were loud and heavy. I instinctively ran up the stairs and out of the pub onto the main road. My breathing was erratic as I stayed in flight or fight mode. I wanted nothing more than to just run. To Hide. To be as far away as possible from his grasp. His touch. From him. I turned around to make sure he didn’t follow me out and stumbled back home. Disgusted, embarrassed and ashamed at the turn of events.

I had gone out there looking for something, and once again– had not found it.