This feels...

different.

Never in a million years would I ever picture myself sitting anywhere else but the bar counter on these kind of nights. But is it even valid to consider this one of those nights?

I came here voluntarily, which is quite contrasting to the other times where my sadness grabbed me by the throat and dragged me here. I came because I knew he would come. I haven't stopped thinking about the other night. This stranger shared so much yet so little with me. I somehow feel like I've known him all my life.

I sit here at a table now, with him, as we enjoy some beer and talk about our day. He continues to be vague, but I can understand it. He doesn't seem like the open-book type of person, but he is still quite talkative.

"You have the most beautiful hair," he interrupts my thoughts. I smile and hide my face as we laugh in unison. I can't help but stare into his eyes and wonder what he's holding back. His stature, maturity, and presence all leave so much to be discovered, and for some reason I want to be the one to uncover it. We finish up after a few hours and walk out the bar just as we did a few nights ago. Only this time, he speaks up before I can start the journey back home.

"You... wanna come back to my place for a bit?" He scratches the back his neck awkwardly, but keeps his presence confident.

"Uh," I look down at my Apple watch. 10:26pm. "Yeah, but not too late. I have work." I start walking towards him.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it," he slides his arm around my shoulders as we take his route home. We enter his run down complex and make our way upstairs. He unlocks the door and gently leads me inside, switching on the lights. It's a loyal apartment; not the best but it clearly does the job. I set my bag down on the floor and let my eyes roam. He walks over to his kitchen counter and pulls out two mugs. "You want coffee? Tea?"

"Tea is good," I respond, making my way to his couch. I unlock my phone and plop down onto the cushions. In my peripheral vision I see him pouring steaming water into each mug before placing a tea bag into each. He pulls on the strings and bounces them a bit. I'm infatuated with this man- whose name I still do not know. I finally give him my full attention as he carefully walks over, handing me a mug. "Thank you," I whisper as I cautiously take a sip. I flinch slightly when the liquid touches my lip. I place the mug onto the coffee table and lean back into my seat. "So why did you invite me back here," I ask, raising my eyebrow.

"Because, although you are stunning, I still find it hard to focus on just you while we're at the bar," he sips his drink. I playfully scoff in response.

"Why? Are there just too many other girls to keep an eye on while you're there?"

"No, actually. It's because there are too many other guys who continue to stare and analyze you even as we converse with one another," he fires back at me. I sit there, stunned, finding it hard to believe that boys could possibly be distracted by me.

"Wow. I never really noticed them, I guess," I shrug, grabbing my mug and putting it to my lips.

"And that's what I like about you. You're too naïve to even comprehend your own beauty. You don't strut around asking for guys to follow," he goes on, now placing his mug down. "Half those men would kill to have just the slightest conversation with you, and here I am, having tea with you in my apartment," he smirks, raising his cup slightly. I examine his lips, growing my own sly smile of my own.

"You must be the luckiest dude in the city," I chuckle.

"Not just the city. The whole damn world..."