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But why should I let Jason get me so down? Why should I sit at home crying and let him have all the fun? I know he’s not going to waste any time finding someone new. He might protest that he cares about me, but he just showed me what his true colors are. Guys like him don’t wait around. They find a new girl immediately.
Well, I can just find myself a new guy.
If my boyfriend isn’t going to treat me right, then I’ll find someone who will. Not long term. Oh, no. I am fuckingdonewith trying to find a real relationship. I should’ve listened to my instincts, but I just wanted to be fucking normal for once.
Nothing’s stopping me from finding a nice one-night stand, though.
I go straight to my closet and open it up, looking for something to wear. There’s a dress hanging at the back of my closet that I bought months ago but have never gotten a chance to wear, and I nod in satisfaction as I pull it out and change into it. I tease my dark brown hair a bit and curl it, then put on a touch of makeup around my eyes.
Once I’m all good to go, I head right for a local dive bar. I’m going to have a damn good time, and I’m going to put Jason behind me.
I’ve actually never been to this dive bar before, although I’ve walked past it tons of times. There are a few other bars I’ve frequented, but I haven’t been to any since I started dating Jason. We’d just go out to get dinner instead, or we’d hang out at his place.
But now I’m single and fuck it, I want to go to a dive bar. I want to get good and drunk and not think about this. Who knows? If an idiot like Jason can go and get a girl, then I sure as hell can go and get a guy if I want to. I’m sexy, I look like a goddamn Amazon woman, and I know what I’m doing in the bedroom.
The dive bar is actually one of those supernatural bars. Not a lot of humans in here. Whoever I sleep with is going to be supernatural in some way, but hey, that’s fine by me. After dealing with Jason, I don’t think I want to sleep with a human right now anyway.
The place is dimly lit, the kind of place with posters on the walls from old bands that have played there. Bands with cool names and interesting posters that nobody recognizes because they’re a part of that weird underground indie vibe. The floor is sticky and has odd patches of color on it, and I’m pretty sure it was hardwood once upon a time, but at this point, you really don’t want to think about it too hard. And you don’t want to eat any food that dropped onto the floor.
Over toward the back are a few pool tables and a jukebox. Nobody’s touching the latter. A couple of people are around one of the pool tables, halfheartedly playing while talking quietly amongst themselves. Shifters, by the look of them. They all have the same tattoo marked on their shoulders. Shifters are very loyal to their packs and will often have some sign that shows what pack they belong to. It’s not a gang thing, although some humans who see them roaming around might think it is. It’s more like if you had your family name tattooed on you.
I get up to the bar and seat myself on one of the stools, raising my hand to the bartender to get a drink. Scanning the few people sitting around, I’m not really seeing a lot of prospects for a one-night stand. It’s late, most people have already found someone and left, or they’re at a club, or whatever. That’s fine. The bartender hands me my martini, and I’m happy to make it the first of many.
So what if I only end up drinking? That’ll work just fine. I’ll find someone tomorrow when I can actually plan better for it.
A few people scan me up and down. I can sense their gazes, but I ignore them. They don’t seem interested in doing more than looking, anyway.
Huh. I guess tonight is a bust.
Resigning myself to just nursing a few stiff drinks and then going home, I polish off my martini and then order another. I’m only halfway through drink number two when the door opens, and three men walk in.
Instinctively, I shoot a glance toward the door to take in the newcomers, and—holy shit.
They’re the definition of gorgeous.
They all look to be in their mid-twenties, and there’s something so magnetic about them that I swear everyone in the bar just did a double take. The one in front, I’m guessing the leader, has dark brown hair and dark blue eyes, and he’s built like a brick house. He’s broad all over, shoulders and waist, and I don’t think I could fit my hands all the way around his upper arms no matter how hard I tried. My mouth waters. I’m tall, but he could pick me up like I weigh nothing, I’m sure of it.
Behind him, on my right, is a lean guy with dark blond hair and sharp green eyes that practically glow. That alone would tip me off to his supernatural nature if I wasn’t already sitting in a supernatural dive bar.
He has a smirk on his face, like he’s already anticipating a crazy good time, and I have to admit, it’s mesmerizing.
On the left-hand side, looking like the brooding type of boy your mom warns you about, is the third guy. He’s also a bit broad, though not as much as the first guy, with blue-black hair and steel-gray eyes. I’ve never seen anyone who has that hair or that color of eyes. It makes my breath catch in my throat.
He’s oddly… beautiful, like he’s been carved out of stone instead of made the way most of us are. What’s almost more striking than his hair or eyes are his tattoos that snake up his arms and peek out from his collarbone. They seem to be a series of intricate patterns, like Celtic knots, or the kinds you find decorating mosques. They’re gorgeous and must’ve taken forever to do.
Obviously, these three men are supernatural if they’re in this dive bar, but I’m not sure exactly what they are.
They’re not vampires, thank fuck, and that’s all I care about. Vampires don’t go to dive bars like this. They’re too fancy for that. At least, in my humble opinion. Then again, I’m biased, but whatever. I’ve never seen a vampire actually deign to drink with the rest of us, so I’m just speaking from experience.
But I’m not getting any other vibes from them, either.
Hmm. Maybe they’re partly human?
That’s a thing, especially since a lot of supernatural creatures have a hard time explaining to their human partner what they are until, well,surprise honey! You’re pregnant, and I’m a werewolf!Being part-human means that the supernatural part of you can be harder to identify specifically since you’lllookhuman.
Honestly, doesn’t matter. They’re hot, and I’m looking to forget about my shitty now-ex boyfriend.
Two of the men head straight for the pool table that’s toward the back, and I could weep when I see them bending over with the pool cues. God, they’re hot. The third, the leader, heads on up to the bar near me and orders some drinks.
