I couldn’t quite place the flavours that swirled around in my mouth as I took that first sip. There was definitely Vodka in there and maybe a hint of lime but, apart from that, I had no clue. All I knew was that it wasn’t the best drink I’d ever tried, but it wasn’t the worst.
“I’ll have a think about that.” I responded to his initial query. We both laughed together. Milo really was a sweet guy. The way he’d comforted Mo was brotherly but you could tell that there was something underlying in the surface of it all. Were they an item? No, she’d mentioned that someone had just used her. Past lovers, perhaps. I didn’t know and I didn’t really want to read into it.
The night was slowly slipping away and people were beginning to leave. I, on the other hand, had no intentions of leaving before I was asked to. I took another sip of the new cocktail Milo had given me and slowly began to feel the effects of both this and the four Martini’s I’d consumed over the course of evening setting in. I wasn’t drunk, nowhere near, just... a little past tipsy, I’d say.
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Milo?” I asked him, grinning sheepishly and taking another sip of my drink.
“Of course not.” He exclaimed, half shocked and half worried by my sudden question.
“Good. But, even if you were, I wouldn’t mind all that much. I’ve not been drunk in such a long time. My work doesn’t permit me to.” I bit my tongue then. I never bring up work in conversation. Never. I must have had too much to drink.
“Oh?” he asked, “Where’s work for you?” I had to be careful what I said from now on.
“What do you think my job is?” I asked, teasing him as he tried to learn more about me. There was no point him knowing everything about me. I doubted I’d ever see him again but I at least wanted to leave here with my pride intact.
“Well, I know its cliché and you must get it a lot,” he began, looking away from me and shuffling his feet nervously, “but you’re so beautiful that you must be a model.” He tilted his head up gingerly to see my reaction. I laughed to myself and shook my head.
“Thanks, but no I’m not a model.”
“Then what do you do?” he asked. I should have just agreed and told him I was a model. What I was about to tell him could go either way… I just hoped it would go the way I planned it to.
“I work for an agency in the city.” I told him, not really giving a clear image of what exactly my agency offered.
“What kind of agency?” he asked.
“An estate agency.” I lied. He nodded. It had gone how I wanted it to. No more questions about my work. I needed to wrap this up else he’d start asking too personal questions about my life. I should never have come here tonight. Secrets don’t go down too well when alcohol’s involved.
“You look sad.” He mentioned. I looked up at him. I hadn’t realised that I’d been staring into my glass for a good few moments and his expression showed deep sympathy towards me. I sighed and forced a smile.
“I’m not sad,” I told him, “tired, if nothing else. I was late home last night and up early this morning.”
“You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked, panic written across his face. I laughed to myself. He was acting like a bit of a clinger but I thought it was sweet. I couldn’t leave him here by himself. That would be cruel.
“No,” I answered, “I’m not going anywhere.”