Chapter 4: Ch. 4 - It May Be Cliche ...
"Fancy another drink?" I asked when the second act had ended. "I'm buying this time."
"No way, I didn't even buy the last one," Jamie said.
"Well, you earned it, so it's kinda the same thing. You didn't have to do that though, you know that right?" I said in reference to the free drink he'd obtained.
"Yeah, I know," he said with a beaming smile. "But it was fun."
I gave a small head gesture over to where the girls he'd persuaded to stay were sitting as one girl, in particular, gave yet another glance over to Jamie. "I think they enjoyed it just as much as you did."
Jamie followed my gesture and gave a polite nod before turning as much away from them as he could. "That part wasn't as much fun. I just enjoyed earning the drink is all."
What couldn't have been fun about getting that kind of reaction from a pretty girl? I wondered.
She was way more stunning than I was and seemed to have all her curves in the right places, something her dress was not too subtly revealing.
"Don't you think hanging with a group of pretty girls would be a lot more fun than hanging with me? I can tell she's into you." Yeah, the statement was a little self-derogatory, but I was just stating facts.
Jamie watched me thoughtfully before glancing back to the girls and then letting out a small laugh. "I'm trying to think of a nice way to say this because I don't like sounding mean, but let's just say I don't like flirtatious girls."
I laughed lightly. "You must be the one and only."
Jamie chuckled with me. "I don't know, I've had enough of them, I guess. It's hard only being wanted for your looks," he said in a fake melodramatic way at which I burst out in laughter.
Owen glanced over and raised his eyebrows slightly.
Oh boy, I secretly scolded myself for the outburst. Laughing out loud wasn't something I did, especially in crowded places such as where we were. "You're almost better than the last comedian," I whispered.
"Well, what else would she want me for?"
"Maybe you seemed like a cool guy."
"Of course, because I am," he said matter-of-factly. "But would she have thought I was so cool if I didn't look this good?"
"I see humility's not your forte."
"Sorry," he said, lowering his posture a little. "Am I coming across as some kind of arrogant jerk?"
I raised my forefinger and thumb and pinched them together in front of him.
"Hmm," he said and ran his fingers through his hair before smoothing it back down. "You know, I started modelling when I was about eight years old, and I also headlined in a few stage plays in the town I used to live in, so I guess it kind of came with the territory. It got a little drilled into me," he started. "My mom always did everything she could to make sure I was adorable, and I guess it worked because I got complimented all the time. It got annoying if I'm honest."
With my arm propped up on the counter, I rested my head on my hand and leaned in. Two thoughts dominated my mind; firstly, I had never heard someone getting annoyed at being complimented all the time, and secondly, said person was an ex-model and stage actor and was now sitting in front of me giving me his time. Boy, do I feel special right about now?
"I just got to the point where I hated pretty girls talking to me," he continued. "I started doing this thing where I would just say any nonsense, and then I'd silently wonder at the intelligence of the girl as she would flutter her eyelids, laugh, and tell me how funny I was. It was so fake. I know if I were ugly, I wouldn't have been given a second of their time, yet there they were listening to whatever crap I felt like saying."
Wow, I thought, trying my best not to take his comment about hating talking to pretty girls to heart. I hadn't expected him to have behaved so disingenuously in his past, and to confess it so sincerely was even more of an enigma.
"This is going to sound real cliché, but I just want a girl to want me, the person. Not just because of my face, but because she actually likes me."
He gave a wistful smile, and I dropped my gaze from his. If only he knew the thoughts I'd been having about him, he probably wouldn't want to sit with me either.
"Er ... I should be honest with you, Jamie," I said, spurred on by his honesty. "I'm probably just as guilty of being dazzled by your good looks as the rest of them. I haven't thought of much else all week," I said, feigning interest in a drink coaster on the counter.
"Really?" he asked, lowering his head to catch my gaze. "That makes me happy."
My eyes locked back with his. Why, after his statement, would he make such a contrary claim?
A full grin took over his face, which he seemed to want to obscure as he bit down on his bottom lip.
"I don't mind if you find me good looking, or hot," he said with a small chuckle which I was sure due to a memory of my outburst the first time we'd met. "That's not what attracted you to me, so it's fine."
And you would know how? I wondered, my eyebrows dipping in the same state of confusion as I was.
"I mean, of course, I don't know why, but you weren't interested in me, at all the first time we met." He paused and watched my reaction before continuing. "You don't remember, do you?"
I shook my head a little as I assumed he wasn't referring to the week before, which he confirmed. Apparently, we had met the two weeks before that too, and he was right, I couldn't remember a thing.
Just like me, Jamie had a penchant for visiting the Noir's nighttime shows and enjoying them in solitude. He'd only moved to the area just over a month ago and was still settling in and making new friends, and despite his confident and easily likeable persona, he was quite an introvert.
Unbeknownst to me, it was on one of these nights that we had crossed paths.
"I was sitting over there," he said, pointing to a table in the corner. "You know, keeping out of everyone's gaze. I just wanted to enjoy the show in peace. You, I am sure, were sitting there where you are now. You caught my attention because a man was having some kind of disagreement by where you were sitting."
Ah yes. A few weeks earlier a man had offered to buy a lady sitting near me a drink, she had politely refused, but he, for some reason, took offence and began making a fuss. I think he had been drinking somewhere earlier and had come to sober off with a cup of coffee. Thankfully Owen calmed him down, but I, who hates conflict, decided to move to a quieter table to avoid any further disturbance.
"You came over and sat at the table beside me," Jamie continued. "We looked each other straight in the eyes for a good few seconds, but you didn't seem to give me a second thought. I was curious," he laughed. "I've never had a girl look at me like that before and completely ignore me, so I wanted to ask you if you wanted a drink."
Really? How could I forget a face like his? I must have been completely lost in my thoughts to not remember him, but if I'm honest with myself, I wasn't one to check out guys, and it was possible I just wasn't interested in a hot guy looking at me.
"Do you remember the band that night?"
I nodded. It was a really good band with a great vocalist and an even better songwriter.
"I was waiting for their song to finish so I could ask you, but when it did. I could have sworn you were crying."
"I ..." My attempt at a lie faltered. Yes, I could remember.
"It was right after that song 'When will my lonely heart breath?'"
I nodded and dropped my head. "That's so embarrassing," I whispered.
"It was beautiful," he said, sounding as sincere as he did profound.
Was me crying about having a lonely heart that beautiful? I wondered as I looked back up at him. He was watching me and wearing a soft and tender smile.
"It was a nice song," I said.
"Yeah, but you can see how it would have been inappropriate to ask you if you wanted a drink after that, especially as you didn't give me a second glance. I promised myself that I would ask you the next time I saw you, but you didn't show up the week after, so I had a bit of a wait on my hands."
And there was me thinking that I had been obsessing over him.
"Just so I can understand what you're saying," I began tentatively. "You wanted to buy me a drink because I ignored you when we first met, and then I cried during a song?"
"It sounds kinda pathetic when you say it like that."
I gave a small 'hmm' before calling Owen to order two more colas. I always knew it was too good to be true. A super-hot guy like him, and ten years my junior to boot; for what other reason would he be interested in me?
Jamie took his drink while still explaining that it wasn't as pathetic as all that, I just caught his attention in a way that girls usually didn't. But for me, it allowed everything to fall into place. I wasn't one of those pretty girls that he hated talking to, but I was, instead, lonely and sad, and perhaps that made him comfortable. Whatever the case, friendship had always seemed more likely than romance anyway.
What is it about you, Jamie? I wondered as I smiled back at him. Having a guy not interested in me had never bothered me, but somehow, despite our small interactions, I was completely hooked.
I let out a deep breath and turned my stool to face the stage.
Friends is a good start, I told myself just as the next act took the stage.
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