"you're afraid of love"
That's what the scarlet-shirted man at the bar said to me. I shrugged and took a swig of my whiskey sour. Who was he to say that anyway?
When his drink was set before him, he grabbed it and moved to the other single woman at the bar slyly propositioning her. She threw her blonde highlighted hair back and laughed drawing her electric blue nails across the ice dew on her glass. She's captivatingly fearless.
I stared down into my drink. Given a couple more of these and I'm sure I could be that flirtatious. "Doubtful. You'd just be a messy drunk."
"Did you say something, Angel?" The big cowboy to my left asked. He'd already downed quite a few drafts, but he seemed no worse for the wear.
I began to shrug; then decided to confess. "See that man in the scarlet shirt, he asked me to sleep with him, and when I refused, he said, 'You're afraid of love.'"
The cowboy stopped mid-gulp and turned to fully look at me. My cheeks flushed warmth as I became spotlighted in his blue-eyed gaze. He looked at my empty glass. "Sweet Pea, can I buy you another drink? It'll take the edge off."
"One whiskey sour is my limit. A ginger ale would be fine, though." I scratched my nose and pushed my straight red hair behind a ear. Cowboy seemed nice, toned, and twice the man that scarlet-shirted man was. "Do you think he was right?"
Cowboy waved the bar tender over and ordered a ginger ale for me. He picked up his draft and took a gulp. "From my experience, love and sex do not equate. You can have great sex and no love for the other person."
It was my turn to take a gulp of my ginger ale. The liquid fizzed down my throat. "Okay, so you're saying that dude equates love and sex? So I shouldn't be feeling offended at his comment."
"Exactly." Cowboy raised his glass to mine, and we clinked glasses. I smiled.