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CHAPTER 1: ZIA
Cigarette smoke. I had never understood what young people thought was so sexy about smoking cigarettes. Personally, I found everything about the habit disgusting. Yet, here I was, sitting in this smoke alley of a beer joint, the music playing just a little too loud, almost resentful that Clara had somehow convinced me to join her at the Book Shelf for the third Saturday in a row.
Almost.
Clara Kincade. My BFF and roommate, with her long, blonde, wavy hair, glittery dark-blue eyes, curves every man would dream about, and a very outgoing personality. She could have been described as my polar opposite in some ways; me with my long, dark hair, light blue eyes, and deep seated introversion.
Clara was beautiful, outgoing, friendly, and flirtatious. The best way to describe Clara was boy crazy. Not to mention the fact that she was not at all the clingy type. Just the type of companion most of these drunken guys were looking for at the end of the night; although she really just stuck to a few regulars to play out her sexual escapades. At least she loved the attention.
Clara loved the local college town hangout, the Book Shelf.
I had to admit, it was ingenious to give a bar a name that sounded like a place students went to study. I’m sure it helped when all these college students’ parents looked at their credit card bills and found how much “studying” and “coffee” drinking their kids were doing. The liquor shelves behind the bar actually had some dusty old books on them.
I on the other hand, had a whole different outlook than Clara, with a very different idea of fun, I supposed. That didn’t stop her from insisting I come out with her most weekends, so I tried to make the most of it.
“Zia, there’s a table! You go grab it and I’ll order us some drinks at the bar. Marco is bartending tonight.” Clara got that mischievous look on her face when she mentioned Marco, and turned to make her way through the crowd of tables and people standing talking in the walkways before squeezing in between a couple of guys at the bar counter.
I made my way to the tall pub table that Clara had pointed to, waited as the bleached-blonde waitress cleared off the remnants of debauchery the people left before us, and finally I climbed into the tall chair. I sat in the seat nearest the wall and looked around the room, watching the people at the tables around me.
This was what I usually did - people-watch. I guess it was only appropriate that I chose to major in psychology at the university that Clara and I were both attending, as I had quite an interest in the way people behaved.
I supposed this was why the idea of sitting here with Clara weekend after weekend wasn’t entirely repulsive. There was always something – or rather, someone – interesting to watch. Girls who cheated on their boyfriends with the boyfriends’ best friends; guys who were pissed seeing their ex-girlfriends out with new guys; girls who got too drunk and suddenly turned bi-curious; guys who started fights over the same girl they both just met; girls trying way too hard to get noticed by guys who wouldn’t remember their names the next day. The usual.
Clara walked over to claim her chair across from mine and handed me a tall rum and diet coke with a lime wedge. I liked to keep it simple, and I liked that Clara got that about me. She had a large frosty schooner of light beer for herself. She was classy, but down to earth.
“How’s Marco?” I took a sip from my drink and initiated the small talk.
“He invited us to his friend’s apartment after he gets off tonight. I told him we’d have to see. You never know how the night will end up!” Clara had a particular way she liked to de-stress, and after the last of our midterms this week, she had every intention of de-stressing to the full extent tonight.
“Sounds like a blast.” I couldn’t even manage to fake enthusiasm. I didn’t care much for the bar scene, but I cared even less for house parties with people I didn’t know.
“I think Becker will be there. I think you’ll like him, Zia. You should give him a chance. I know you hate it when I try to play matchmaker with you, but you could at least give it a shot. He could be a pretty nice guy. He’s definitely hot.” Clara seemed to think that because it had been several months since I’d dated anyone, and much longer than that with anyone serious, I needed her help in the romance department. I knew she meant well.
“Ohhh, Clara, you really don’t need to try to set me up. I don’t need any help. I’m just not in a hurry, you know? I’m too happy being alone to feel the need to settle for some ‘Mr. Right Now,’ you know what I mean?” I tried to explain this to her for the millionth time. “But if you really want to go, I’ll go with you.”
“We’ll see. Ooh, I saw Motorcycle Guy here on my way back from the bar. He was a couple of tables behind us, looking so hot in those ripped up jeans. Do you see him?”
We had seen Motorcycle Guy in here several times, but usually in passing. Of course Clara would be attracted to a bad-boy type who looked all rough and tough and drove a motorcycle; hence the nickname.
I looked past Clara to see where he might be sitting, and just when I saw him, his eyes met mine. Apparently he’d had his eyes on our table as well, and he took the eye contact with me as the opening he’d apparently been waiting for.
