Brian
He was gnawing on beef jerky when I first met him. Like a canine, he tore at the jerky before he extended his other hand to ‘pound’ mine. “I’m Brian.”
I thought that maybe it was merely a momentary lapse in his usual casual behavior.
While attending a private party at Gravity, Robbie was particularly trashed that night. And I was getting it all on film.
After a few pictures, I felt a tug at my jeans.
A scantily-clad 20 something woman was trying to get my attention. Her hair was in pig-tails and the makeup on the left side of her face was smeared. When she looked up at me she looked like a whore coked out of her face.
“Pardon, but is this girl bothering you?” I heard someone ask from behind me.
It was Brian. When he gestured to the girl pulling at my leg, I noticed that he was clean-shaven, wearing a black polo and dark jeans, and his chestnut hair was done up in a sophisticated mess. The bartender lit the bar on fire and his jade eyes reflected the dancing flames like a pane of glass. He touched the girl on the shoulder and tried to move her away. She waved him off and eventually started biting instead of pulling. She gripped at my ankle and calf as if my lower leg was the juiciest, most appetizing leg of lamb and sank her teeth into my jeans. Brian rolled his eyes and jerked her hair back, asking her, respectfully, to stop.
A sarcastic badass. I liked that.
She gasped, but ignoring her was not going to work. I glanced from Brian to the girl.
“Do you need something?” I asked in a bitchy tone, more for Brian to hear than for the girl.
“You have my camruhhh!” she claimed, pointing at the gunmetal Canon in my hand.
I smiled, musing at the lack of moderation the girl had taken in the process of her self-inebriation.
“No-no, this is my camera.”
While attending a private party at Gravity, Robbie was particularly trashed that night. And I was getting it all on film.
After a few pictures, I felt a tug at my jeans.
A scantily-clad 20 something woman was trying to get my attention. Her hair was in pig-tails and the makeup on the left side of her face was smeared. When she looked up at me she looked like a whore coked out of her face.
“Pardon, but is this girl bothering you?” I heard someone ask from behind me.
It was Brian. When he gestured to the girl pulling at my leg, I noticed that he was clean-shaven, wearing a black polo and dark jeans, and his chestnut hair was done up in a sophisticated mess. The bartender lit the bar on fire and his jade eyes reflected the dancing flames like a pane of glass. He touched the girl on the shoulder and tried to move her away. She waved him off and eventually started biting instead of pulling. She gripped at my ankle and calf as if my lower leg was the juiciest, most appetizing leg of lamb and sank her teeth into my jeans. Brian rolled his eyes and jerked her hair back, asking her, respectfully, to stop.
A sarcastic badass. I liked that.
She gasped, but ignoring her was not going to work. I glanced from Brian to the girl.
“Do you need something?” I asked in a bitchy tone, more for Brian to hear than for the girl.
“You have my camruhhh!” she claimed, pointing at the gunmetal Canon in my hand.
I smiled, musing at the lack of moderation the girl had taken in the process of her self-inebriation.
“No-no, this is my camera.”
She looked at me in disbelief. So we pointed at her wrist, and from it dangled her camera. We said “Your camera,” but then I stopped when I realized we were saying the same thing.
Brian, however, went on: “Your camera is right here, see?” he said, gently fingering the lanyard fastening the black camera to the girl’s thin wrist.
Brian, however, went on: “Your camera is right here, see?” he said, gently fingering the lanyard fastening the black camera to the girl’s thin wrist.
“A friend of yours?” he asked. A smile played on his lips. He eyed both glasses playfully and cocked his head as if reaching a point-breaking decision; he eventually handed me the one in his right hand.
“Obviously my best. Don’t you have friends that bite your legs?”
When Robbie vomited for the third time, we decided to leave. Brian understood, of course, and told me that one day, in lieu of seeing each other by accident, we should do it on purpose.
I went in for a hug, but he wouldn’t allow it, and stopped me with his hands on my chest.
“What?” I asked him, furrowing my brow.
“You’re too cute to not kiss.”
The following evening, he called me.
“Obviously my best. Don’t you have friends that bite your legs?”
When Robbie vomited for the third time, we decided to leave. Brian understood, of course, and told me that one day, in lieu of seeing each other by accident, we should do it on purpose.
I went in for a hug, but he wouldn’t allow it, and stopped me with his hands on my chest.
“What?” I asked him, furrowing my brow.
“You’re too cute to not kiss.”
The following evening, he called me.
“Hey. How’s your leg?“
