Jennie is becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Not because it's unwanted, but because she is painfully introverted and shy with everyone, let alone strangers, and this…unravelling…is going a little too fast for her comfort zone. And it makes her uneasy that it's not an unwelcome feeling. There's something about the blonde bartender – how she stares at her earnestly, how she has taken the time to give her an alternative to what she's drinking, how she's keen to know more about her. Never mind that she's also drop-dead gorgeous, but that's beside the point.

Jennie also realised she's been ogling at the blonde for some time now with slightly open. She closed her jaws, still not fully recuperating from the blush, then nervously bit on the end of her new straw.

"What stories?" Jennie asked tentatively.

"You. Tell me about yourself."

Jennie apprehensively sipped on her mixed soda water, but after the new flavour hit her tongue, her eyes widened to this new revelation. "Oh, this is so good! What berries are these?"

The bartender smiled knowingly, torn how to react to this lady who earlier was just blushing furiously but whose face now turned into having this child-like wonder within the span of a few minutes.

"Stop deflecting."

Jennie bit on her lip to prevent herself from giggling because she just got caught. "I don't know what to tell. I'm very boring."

"Then we'll see if your drink will taste boring, too." The tall stranger smirked, waiting on Jennie who continued to fidget with her straw. "Come on, try me."

"I don't know what to tell you."

"Well, how about you tell me something interesting about where you're from?"

"I live about 30 minutes away from here. There’s nothing interesting you wouldn’t know about." Jennie knew she responded rather stubbornly, but she also knew there just isn’t anything she could say right now that could potentially be interesting to this stranger. Her life has been simple.

The blonde regarded her quietly, then motioned to the glass with whiskey beside Jennie.

"Can you get that for me, please?"

Jennie felt the resignation in the blonde's voice and she wanted to mentally kick herself for it. She wanted to continue but she just…she doesn't know how to ease into conversations, let alone flirting. It always seemed easy for the others. It always seemed easy in the stories she read. Why can't it be easy for her?

She reached for the glass and put it in the bar in front of the bartender, then she looked at her group clustered at the other end of the place having fun without her. A part of her is relieved to be staying away from them and getting a little bit of quiet, but a part of her…knew she simply just wants to be there. In that corner. Talking or not talking to that bartender. Just…being with her.

But how do you tell people these things?

The blonde observed the sullen Jennie and realised that maybe she's pushing a little too much: Jennie looked like she was staring longingly back at her group. Maybe she's just being polite by staying here. She shook her head and silently reprimanded herself, maybe she's overstepping her bounds. The blonde only wanted to get to know more about her.

She drank the remains of the glass (it was scotch, triple cask. Not something Jennie would have immediately guessed), just in time for Jennie to look back at her with disapproving curiosity.

"Did you just—wait, was that drink yours?"

"Mmmhmm," the blonde nodded, tight-lipped after savouring the liquor.

“You were drinking here alone with that scotch?”

“Mmmhmm.”

"Are you allowed to drink alone on your shift?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you're bartending tonight, right?"

The blonde was about to laugh when she realised Jennie looked dead serious. She cleared a little. "Oh. Uh…I don't work here. I just come to this bar because I'm friends with the owner and I helped them with their bar list."

Jennie's face flushed for the nth time tonight. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I just thought—"

"It's okay. It's fine, don't worry about it." The blonde waved her hand dismissively. "Look, I'm sorry if I seemed like I was imposing. I just thought you seemed interesting and I was hoping to kind of get to know you a bit, but obviously, I'm making you uncomfortable and it's the last thing I want you to feel right now. I'll set up something quick. I'm sorry for taking your time," and she started getting another glass to prepare.

Jennie felt like she wanted to sink in her seat. First of all, it was embarrassing to find out that the blonde was not even doing her job by offering her something – in fact, NOT even working there at all, but secondly, it made her realize that this blonde is flirting with her, indeed. If not interested, at the very least. And Jennie is, too. Very interested. But she's bombing it. Big time.

"Wait." Jennie heard herself say. The blonde didn't hear it, so she had to repeat herself louder.

"Wait. Stop."

The blonde paused and looked at her, slowly raising her eyebrows when Jennie didn't speak for a minute.

"I'm…not uncomfortable—" Jennie painfully mumbled. The blonde had to strain herself a bit to hear her, "—with you. But I am uncomfortable with…this. Because I'm just really shy. And I don't know what to say. Or tell."

Jennie haltingly uttered those words, and for a moment it sounded alien to her. She's not typically open with her thoughts. She continued when she noticed that the blonde was sincerely listening.

"But. I want to get to know you, too. So…I'm sorry. But when I said I don't know what to tell you, sometimes a dozen hundred things run through my head, but I still don't know how to arrange them. Coherently. Out loud. And I don’t know what I can say that can be interesting at all. I don’t know how to pick through my thoughts."

The blonde softened at the response. "That's the most you have said to me tonight."

Jennie couldn't tell where the thoughts and the words came from, either. Maybe it was the panic of not seeing this beautiful woman again? Suppose we all have our motivations. She unconsciously rubbed her clammy hands on her jeans, trying to stop herself from being a nervous wreck.

The blonde poured another shot of scotch on her glass and grabbed the rest of the opened soda water, then poured it on Jennie's glass. She then grabbed her own drink and moved to the end of the bar, effectively standing beside and closer to where Jennie was sitting. The blonde propped her arms on the bar and rested her chin while gazing at her. The proximity made Jennie start to panic again, but the blonde’s careful presence felt less imposing and made her feel a little safe.

"Tell you what. I will ask a question, and we both share something about it so it doesn't feel like you're just the only one talking. Would that be okay?"

Jennie slowly eased into a small smile. "I'd like that,” She whispered.

The blonde grinned, then tipped her glass towards Jennie's making a small clink as a toast, before taking a small sip of her scotch.

"Okay, let's try this: if money would be no issue, where would you want to go and why?"

"Wait, are you still asking these questions for the cocktail? What do places we wish to go to got to do with this?"

“From shy to sarcastic in a beat. What is this?” The blonde laughed, then jokingly poked Jennie's nose lightly. "God, you're a pill. Yes. These are pertinent questions."

Jennie laughed too, trying to brush off the blush she got after the blonde touched her nose. The brunette then looked at the other expectedly. "Well?"

"Oh, right. I have to answer, don't I? I didn't immediately think of something. Wait," the blonde took a sip of her scotch thoughtfully. "I think I would stay for years in Italy. There's so much culture embedded in the small cities, in the small family shops, in the coffee cups. There's so much pride in making the best food, and there's so much to say about having pride in a generations' passed-down recipe."

"Have you ever been to Italy?"

"No, not yet, unfortunately."

"I heard it's really beautiful."

The blonde nodded. "I was told. Especially the countrysides that are full of old family shops that know each other."

"But why the smaller family heritage? Most people I've met are into the big cities."

"Well, that's kind of the beauty of it, I think. Cities are a lot more about transience and very impressive structures. Family shops are about being able to preserve what they have for decades. There's just something about passed-down traditions."

Jennie considered her answer a bit while she sipped on her drink. "Do you find yourself traditional?"

The blonde paused a little. "Not really traditional, but I do find interest in what makes people decide to keep as tradition, if that makes sense."

Jennie nodded, feeling a little immersed. She lived for these kinds of conversations and she's surprised to find an ease of exchange with a stranger, despite how hard it was to connect earlier. Maybe because the blonde opened up herself first? She guesses it was easier to ask questions to something you’re genuinely curious about compared to telling your own stories.

"How about you?" She asked Jennie. The latter had an idea in mind but was trying to compose them into better thoughts.

"I think…New York."

The blonde’s face brightened, her eyes suddenly cheerful with recognition. "Interesting. Why New York?”

"I don't know.” Jennie paused, trying to articulate her ideas. “I think it's just such a visual place. There's so much happening and there's so much to explore.”

“Yeah, I imagine the hustle and bustle of the city would be exciting for you.”

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