last flight to marakesh

"so, is he a friend of yours?"
"huh?"
"i know you're listening. you can't stop looking at me."

busted. just like i'd planned. ha! i've drawn her back in. or at least made myself a sufficient visual nuisance that she had to address me. i wouldn't say she sounded irritated. no, it was more bemusement. like she couldn't imagine what the hell was going on that these two guys should be vying so diligently for her attention. attention she clearly was not going to dole out like government cheese. attention i had developed a sudden addiction to. attention that i would take by any means necessary. reading that makes sick to my stomach with myself. pussy.

i had to think quickly now. the "huh?" had bought me an extra second or two, but now was the critical moment. the response would dictate the rest of the conversation, probably the rest of the night...(cue dramatic strings...) maybe (dunh, dunh, dunh!) the rest of my life. i'm melodramatic. up yours. i'll be however i want to be. my story, my rules (thanks, mom). i just felt a surge of importance in those seconds. to be sure, i had already been intrigued, but thinking the game was lost, only to have her reignite the discussion, well, that screamed capre diem to me. the most prudent course of action was to be the statesman. distance myself from zac, while not condemning him.

"haha. got me. well, he's my friend as much as anyone who serves me liquor is."
"is that how you define friendship? pretty lonely guy huh?"

bitch! that was uncalled for. totally accurate, but way too close to home. no one should be able to slice through my defenses so easily. i didn't build all these walls as a child for no reason, you know. i spent years shielding myself from people, and now this...this...sexy shrew with the reed-like whisper of voice that has leaked into me like a toxic cloud...she thinks she can just summarise me like that??!! well, she's got another think coming (thanks, judas priest).

"what gave it away? being chummy with bartenders or drinking alone?"

damnit! what kind of defense is that??!

"both. don't sweat it though. i'm here drinking alone too."

opening!

"but you're not friendly with the help."
"he's an ass. i don't need to be friendly with him."
"fair point. what makes you want to be friendly with me?"

oops. maybe too aggressive. too late. i'm way past worrying about being obvious or pushy. i practically stared at her already. and it seemed to work. she's talking to me now. but that question did convoke some pique. i couldn't see the hair on the back of her neck, but i'm pretty sure it was standing up. unwittingly, i think i had crossed over one her walls, and she was rankled the same way i was. a cycle of psychological skirmishes had begun.

"probably the same thing that makes you want to stare at me and get me to talk to you again."
"tequila?"
"ha! no, must be this pissy zinfindel. my brian's not used to it. must be affecting me."
"so we've learned something. zinfindel is your krytopnite. i'll keep that mind."
"you do that. and i'll keep in mind how desperate you are."

ok, at this point i have a confession. when she said that i instantly felt like a 13 year-old boy whose just seen porn for the first time. strange impulses were surging inside me for reasons i couldn't completely comprehend. intellectually, i knew what i was looking at, but my conscious brain was quickly overwhelmed by a hormone bath. i felt a rush of blood. my quickening had begun.