Tag Archives: Ava

“I love you, Ava. Sleep with me.”

This is a super-short story I wrote a month ago. I’ve been keeping it in my notebook and wanted to post it. Enjoy.

He thumbed his glass and considered his options.

She had a boyfriend, who she mentioned occasionally, but was wasting no time flirting with him. She dropped a fifth free shot of Jameson in front of him. They toasted to some forgotten topic. Gulped down the fire water. She had to tend to everyone else at the bar. Alone on one end, he thumbed his glass.

Thomas was a guy with a lot of sins on his back. He was a forgotten son. A pill popper. Clinically depressed whenever it rained. Funny only when he was drunk. And, a bad driver. Emphasis on bad. But none of that mattered tonight. It rarely did when he showed up at Alpine, the only faux ski lodge in all of South Brooklyn – famous for its jukebox full of mixtapes, and catering to 29 year olds who hated being called “hipsters”. Beneath a stuffed moosehead and televisions that played Ski School on a continuous loop, Thomas Bennetton slouched down and stared at his empty shot glass. Tonight, he had only one option: go home with the bartender and have sex with her. Ava. She was practically screaming “Fuck me.” with all the free alcohol she was pouring in front of him.

This was trouble. He knew it, but he didn’t care.

Ava was something else. An art school girl with the mouth of a sailor. The face of a prom queen. This was the girl he read about all the time. The girl who acts like she’s tough, but needs someone. Someone who also needs someone.

He didn’t want to go home alone tonight. Sure, Thomas Bennetton was a lout, but even louts have feelings. And – alone in his apartment (the one his father bought him) – all he had were his feelings. And his feelings sometimes betrayed him. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to feel like a lout tonight. He wanted the trash-talking prom queen to kiss him. To make it all better.

He thumbed his glass and considered his options

He looked up at Ava on the other side, and waved her over. She raised her eyebrows, walked towards him with an arch in her back, her breasts stuck out. She grabbed the Jameson and two more shot glasses. She poured number six. They gulped. He smiled. She bit her lower lip. Her lip ring protruded out.

“God,” he thought “this’ll be awesome.”

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