Chapter 55: Reevaluation (Part I)

Greetings, all. And welcome to the Unabashedly Bad: The College Years.

In today's episode, Angel goes to a bar and has a drink. That's really pretty much all that happens. Oh, and yes, Amy. Armsocks. For serious.

Enjoy!


Chapter 55: Reevaluation (Part I)

Angel didn’t cry. [woah. was this chapter ghostwritten?] She had done enough crying in her life. She was done. She was also done with trying to figure out where she had gone wrong at every step in her entire relationship past. Right now, she just wanted to be alone. She didn’t answer the phone, she called in sick at work, and she deleted every message on her answering machine before she could even listen to them. She also briefly considered the following: quitting, moving, homicide, double homicide, and becoming a nun. She eventually talked herself out of each of these options, as they were all in some way impractical or illegal. But she had to do something different with herself. She couldn’t just bounce into work on Monday and smile as if her life were perfect. It was time for something different. She had been a sweet, naïve, unassuming girl all her life. All that got her was pain. Life had handed her so many lemons, but the lemonade she had turned them into was far too sweet. [see? I told you this was still bad.] Maybe it was time she spiked the lemonade.

“Okay,” she said out loud. “Okay.” She threw open the doors of her closet. [so she’s at home. In Minnesota. Remember that.] “I,” she said, grabbing a pair of heels, “am going to go to a bar and pick up men.” She put a coat of glossy red on to her lips. “No … I am going to a bar to let men try and pick up me.” She grabbed her purse and headed out. [Well that’s a stellar idea, Angel. But aren’t you afraid that your radiantly undeniable beauty will blind onlookers?]

The bar was noisy, smoky, and swarming with people. There were people in suits, people in jeans, and an alarming number of people with pronounced muscles and long hair.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Angel muttered to herself. She should’ve known better than to pick a hotel bar. Wrestlers. At least they weren’t from WCW. It looked like an odd blend of WWF guys and local indies [now why would they be mixing? And how would she know who they were?] Angel almost turned around, but then reasoned that she had nothing better to do and, seeing as how almost all the faces were unfamiliar, she might as well stay.

She sat at the end of the bar and ordered a cosmopolitan [sorry, folks. No winners this time]. She sipped it slowly and observed the throng of people. Men smiled at her. She smiled back. She had boring conversations with several forgettable guys, gave out three fake phone numbers, and switched to diet coke. Just as she was about to head out for the evening, someone leaned up against the bar right next to her.

“Leaving?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“It’s not time to leave.”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t get to talk to me yet.”

“Man, you’ve got some confidence,” she said, smiling playfully. He didn’t’ respond, but he sat down and ordered a beer, motioning for the bartender to refill Angel’s drink as well.

As he ordered the drinks, Angel stole a quick glance at him. He was definitely a wrestler – with a body that looked cut out of marble. His face was young, smooth, and sharply defined, with sideburns that sloped at steep, marked angles towards his jawline. He was wearing a white shirt and baggy black jeans. And his hair …

“Is your hair purple?”

“Some of it.”

“Ok,” she said, shrugging.

“What’s your story?”

“It’s long and repetitive.” [pfft, she should’ve just given him the url of this blog]

“So let’s make it more fun.”

“That’s a horrible pick-up line.”

He flashed a smile at her. His eyes had a dark shine to them.

“You are incredibly sexy,” he said.

“You are incredibly forward.”

“It comes with the confidence.”

“I don’t date wrestlers,” she told him, turning back to the bar.

“What gave me away? The physique or the charisma?”

“The ego.”

“So we won’t date. We’ll chill.”

“We will?”

“I think so,” he handed her a bar napkin and a pen. She pushed it back towards him and grinned, noting the number sign.

“I just wanted to play tic tac toe. I was even going to let you start.”

“Okay.” She put an O in the center box and pushed it back towards him.

“Only a sucker starts in the middle box.” He put an X in the corner.

“Is that so?” She put an O in the other corner.

“Yep.” The napkin passed between them a few more times before he emerged triumphant. “See?”

“Only a sucker thinks he can impress a lady by beating her at tic tac toe.”

“What’s your name?”

“Angelica Kerris.”

“Pretty name.”

“You are?”

“Jeff Hardy.”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

NOTES:

1) Yeah, a cosmo. I saw a picture of one and thought it was pretty. I also assumed that it tasted good. Blech. Yes, as Oleg pointed out, I am hardly a connoisseur of alcohol. It all tastes nasty to me. If my parents are any indication, this aversion to alcohol has saved me a good deal of money and embarassment over the years. Sorry no one won this round. I've got another one coming up in chapter 61.

2) Jeff Hardy? Yeah, I thought he was pretty hawt back in the day. He looks kinda haggard these days, though, probably because of all those crazy drugs. Plus I heard he got in trouble with the law. I don't think Angel would approve of drugs and lawbreaking, Jeffy.

3) Who loses at tic tac toe? How does any game between two rational adults not end in a tie?

4) I love how Angel completely transforms in this chapter. It's almost as if three entire years have elapsed.

Oooooooookay.

COMING UP NEXT …

Jeff attempts to charm the pants off of Angel. Then one of Angel's Bestest Friends totally harshes on her realm. Hooo boy! Tune in next time for ...

Chapter 55: Reevaluation (Part II)