A double shot arrived. He had actually been planning on order a single this time. But what could he do. Order a double your first time around and your
bartender
was bound to assume that double was your standard. Plus, he didn't mind drinking extra on the account of a 'mistake'.
He shot the bartender a smile across the 32 inch bartop, raised the
whiskey
to his mouth to down half in one drink, but decided the moment the liquid touched his inner lips that he'd sip this one.
After placing the glass back on the bartop he kept his hand on the glass. When you sipped you could do such things. Swirl the drink around and watch it, rather than having your hand reaching for your phone. But damn didn't he want to reach for his phone. There had been no vibration in his pants, and so he knew that she had not tried to reach him since he got here. But now it was eight minutes after their planned time. Could he be at the wrong place?
He had suggested the new
sports bar
right by the river. He was inspired by the idea of having a drink on the patio with his coworker Sandy. Maybe the view and the drinks would make her see him in a different light than just coworker. Not that he was head over heels for her. But she was new. And available, maybe. And he was single with too much time and money on his hands. So why not go out for a few drinks. Nothing serious.
Forget 'nothing serious', they were off to a false start. Eight minutes late to the first meeting. And when he had even conceded to go to the bar she wanted.
After taking another sip of his Wild Turkey he conceded. Let go of the glass and took out his phone. No new notifications. He sighed and sent a text. The message aimed to allow her to save face. No accusatory interrogations on whether she had forgotten or not. Instead a question asking whether she was still at the office due to work.
"Still at the office? It's quite packed here! Just got a drink."
A moment later he received a reply.
"Where are you? I'm in one of the booths."
He looked around. He swore that he had't seen her in one of the booths when he came in.
"I'll be right back," he told the bartender and grabbed his glass. Took a walk down all the booths in the hipster bar. They were all filled with youngish looking people in flannel, sipping straw colored
beer
out of
mason jars
.
No Sandy though. He felt for his phone in his pockets. He then walked briskly back to the bar where the phone was ringing.