A little something i've been working on

The static sound of crashing waves...

Soothed the soul for an entire community of lonely hearts.

The sun set hours ago on the quiet beaches of Balboa island. The burning ball left a brilliant flash of light before sinking below the silky smooth waters and blanketing the sky in a quilt of darkness. Yet, through the pitch black of night, a glow of lights illuminated the shore.

Tiny seaside shops and tightly packed bars lined the sands like a row of Christmas bulbs on the edge of a lawn. The rectangle shaped buildings were staggered in height and placed without regard to their neighbor. It was as if each house was an island unto itself.

To the west was the dim outer space of the Pacific ocean, sparsely speckled with late night sailboat cruises and 24 hour oil rigs.

To the east were the denizens of a late night bar scene, hopping from one watering hole to the next like nomads in a moonlit desert, searching for a place to quench their thirst.

Thursday night was the new Friday night and all the college kids were dressed to impress. They were a termagant sea of skin, cloth, and hair, flowing in and out of one another before evaporating into the quiet streets.

Tired and alone sat a tiny oasis called the Fair Spanish Lady. There were no lines stretching around her structure and onto the roads, but she was by nobody's estimation means a sleepy old pub.

The right people knew about her and she stood like a shimmering jewel on a gilded crown. The other bars were flashier but the Lady had real worth.

The waters pounded the shoreline, but what sounded like thunder up close was reduced to white noise in the Lady. She had that effect on people. Absolute calm and serenity, the kinda of place to unwind and relax.

A stunning brunette and her blond partner laughed loudly as they ordered their drinks. The ice in their cups softly melted as it was met with the powerful tonic. The brunette was devastating. Her long legs were accented by her dark denim skinny jeans and bright red flats. She was stylish and hip, a hypnotic blend becoming a trap for wandering stares. Her skin was a lightly dimpled brown that invited gazes like a pet shop window. Her eyes were a dull gray with a hint of green that shone like unpolished emeralds in the low candle light, a treasure offset by her wry, knowing smile. I could not take my eyes off of her.

Everything was a blur. It was like the whole world around this girl was tuned out and unimportant. Maybe it was the booze or the onset of late night exhaustion but in that moment she seemed to slow time to a standstill. Nobody aged a second in those few minutes. She began to move back and forth and up and down to the steady beat like a single buoy in a briny stew of captivated drunks, all the while weaving herself in the meandering guitar lines of some hipster My Bloody Valentine knock off.

Her billowy top delayed her movements, clashing with the jingling costume jewelery and silky smooth hair. One foot, then another, eyes closed, glass in hand, she was a work of art. Something to behold, someone to be held.

Her blond friend turned toward me, briefly making eye contact. A smirk materialized on her porcelain lips and vanished behind her twiggy digits. She whispered something into the burning brunette's ear. For a moment it appeared her entrancing dance might be interrupted. Her eyes opened and she stared right at me, still moving. The crowd held it's collective breath, hoping, praying that the last note of the song would be the end of her display and not this sudden interruption.

My heart dropped like on the back side of a roller coaster apex. They caught me looking. Sitting with my friend at my table, they caught me looking. I thought about slowly loosing my gaze, but it was too late. So I just smiled; a sheepish, slightly embarrassed grin, hoping for the same.

It seemed I might be in the clear. The brunette sipped her drink ever so delicately, the alcohol thinning in color as it kissed her lips at such a precise angle. She set the glass down, and threw back her head with eyes closed. Again I was stunned.

"So Evan, I heard you broke up with Eleanor."
My eyes snapped back to attention, back on the cool, wiry figure in front of me. His name was Josh Minster, we had been friends since high school.

"Yeah, things just weren't right or something," I said lifting my glass for another drink. "I don't know, I think it was the right thing to do but ..."

I closed my eyes quietly and sighed to myself.

"It's over now though."

Josh shook his head up and down vigorously in affirmation, with all the confidence typical of a near drunk person.

"You gotta do what is right for you,man," he said slurring his speech slightly.
I looked away, unsure of the sanctity of my inebriated friend's advice.

"To a brighter tomorrow," declared Josh with his mug raised.
Reluctantly, I met his glass with mine.

"I hope so."

I literally dove into the drink, immersing myself in the faded bliss. Cold alcohol poured down my throat, killing brain cells and memories. The liquid seeped into every fold of my mind, nearly drowning me in drunken stupor. When I finally came up for air I had just enough presence of mind to notice the brunette was making her way toward me.

A wave of fear replaced the alcohol induced euphoria. It was that sunken feeling one gets when they know something bad is on the cusp of occurrence.

She approached the table with an unsteady wobble. Her eyes were half closed and there was a stain on her sleeve from a spilled drink. Party Foul!

I felt myself getting smaller and smaller as slumped in my chair. Despite seeing pink elephants, she was still beautiful, she was still somewhat aware, and yet she seemed to be approaching me directly. Even in my wildest dreams I would not have imagined a possibility of mutual attraction with this bombshell. Something had to go wrong.

My skin flushed with bright colors, like a broken chameleon. She stalked her way towards me still, parting the crowds with machete like resolve in an inebriated jungle.

Then it happened.

The moment. A rush of anxiety, what would I say? What should I say? My stomach turned and twisted inside of me.

Then, in a move that would make Michael Schumacher proud, her blond friend, who had been drafting behind secretively, pulled ahead at the last second and got right in my face.

"Why were you staring at my best friend Stacy?" she blurted out.

She was piss drunk, that much was certain. Her eyes were lifeless and unfocused, her tone was blunt and I think one of her shoes was missing.

I cautiously looked around to see if anyone else was watching this confrontation. They were.
What was there for me to do? It was bad enough to be caught, but to then be called out on it, my mind was in no condition to be dealing with this.

"I um, I didn't mean anything by it."
The blond scowled at me, and in a fit of righteous indignation began to tell to me why I wasn't nearly good enough for her friend.

I just sat there while her vodka tinged breath rained down on me. There was a hint of lime.
It was so typical. A completely innocent stare was met with unbridled anger when it would have been welcomed or sought after from a more handsome guy.

Still, sitting in a chair face to face with this intoxicated banshee was the most intimate I had been with a girl in a while.

The brunette dancer pulled on her friends left arm urging her to stop making a scene. She mouthed the word "sorry" to me before finally subduing the beast and exiting.

I missed Eleanor.