A Sorta Fairytale (2 page)

Chapter 3

Stella

I lost my virginity when I was fourteen to a neighbor’s cousin who was in town for the weekend. We weren’t anything, and I knew we wouldn’t be. Growing up in Louisiana, there wasn’t all that much to do, besides drinking and getting in trouble with the law. Sex was the third and final thing to do. So at fourteen, in a homemade treehouse in the middle of a scorching summer, I lost my virginity. I didn’t think anything of it. I wanted to touch a penis, I wanted to see a penis, and the next thing I knew it was inside of me. And before I had time to think about it, my virginity was gone and I was moving on with my life. I didn’t even know his name. Didn’t care.

Sex shouldn’t be so secretive if you’re a woman. Sex is an action, not an emotion. I enjoy screaming your name, the headboard rattling, bent over, sweaty, dirty fucking. Who doesn’t? I’m not considered a slut. I just like to have sex
a lot,
and I like to try it with different ones, maybe even simultaneously someday. When they don’t meet my standards, I move on. My standards? Well, they’re simple:

Large Cock. Eight inches or more.

Knows how to use it, along with mouth and fingers.

Gets me off. (Can be difficult.)

Doesn’t talk about feelings or emotions.

Talks dirty.

Chapter 4

Stella & Alex

I look down into the glass of red liquid, daydreaming about the moments of Thomas and me, until I’m broken from them. That’s when you walk into my life.

“Everything okay over here?”

I grab my half glass of overpriced chardonnay, not answering you right away. You cross your arms in front of your chest and nod, your chocolate brown eyes never leaving mine. “Yeah, I guess.”

A small grin comes to your face. “I’m Alex, by the way. I probably should’ve introduced myself when you ordered your glass of wine earlier.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It was pretty busy earlier, if you didn’t remember,” you joke.  “Plus, I figured…”

I wave a hand in the air. “You were saying?”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t think you’d be sitting here for so long by yourself.”

“Wow,” I laugh. “Thanks for pointing out the very painfully obvious.” Quickly, I reach for my wristlet to search for some cash to throw on the bar. But you place a hand over mine, stopping my movements.

You raise your hands, a form of surrender. “I’m sorry, okay? I just figured someone would’ve come up to you by now. Maybe, now I know why.”

I zip my wristlet. Not taking my eyes away from yours, I ask, “And what do you mean by that, exactly,
Alex
?”

“Well, you’re gorgeous.”

My belly tightens and something builds in my chest. “Wha…what do you mean?”

“Seriously?” You grab a beer from the cooler, pop it open, and hand it to another customer. You don’t look away from me the entire time you do it. I like that. “Well…”

I let out a breath. “I know what it is.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m a bitch.”

You release a small laugh. “That’s not it at all.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what is it?”

Your smile grows wider. Leaning into me, you say, “You’re intimidating.” I look away from you. I’m experiencing emotions and feelings I’ve never felt before. Well, with someone like you. “So…”

“Stella James.” I smile.

You extend a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Stella. I’m Alex McNeil.”

I shake your hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” I quietly say. Lightning strikes, and I look toward the window. “I should probably get going,” I mumble.

Slowly, your smile disappears. “Oh, right.” I start to pull money out of my wristlet, but you wave it away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, gripping a few dollar bills.

You nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Well,” I say as I put the money back in my wallet, “thanks.”

“No problem.”

Getting up from my barstool, I start to look away from you when several men run inside from the rain. “Oh, shit,” one of them says. “It’s a fucking torrential downpour out there.”

I roll my eyes and look at the clock hanging on the wall above the door.
8:45.
“Shit.”

“What?”

I look in your direction. Not wanting to tell you the truth, I make up a lie. “I need to get home, but it looks really bad out there.” I know Thomas won’t be coming out tonight. God only knows how long the rest of the meeting will take. The fact that it’s raining pretty much puts the cherry on top of the sundae. I won’t be getting laid tonight.

“Well, how about you stay for a bit? It’s pretty slow right now, if you can’t tell.”

I turn around, looking at the bar. I didn’t realize there were about three other people in the bar. I see a couple making out in the back—I’m pretty sure he’s fingering her—and the girl the other bartender is hitting on. I turn back to you and shrug. “I don’t know,” I say. “I think I should get going.”

“Nonsense.” Nodding at the other bartender, you say, “Besides, Andy here can take care of everything for a bit.” You yell, “Hey, Hotshot!” as you throw a damp dish towel at him, smacking him right in the face.

“Hey!” he shouts. “What the hell did you do that for?”

You shrug. “I’m going to take my break now. You think you can handle all of this by yourself?”

Andy looks around the bar. His eyes widen when he notices the couple in the back. You clear your throat, and he returns his attention to you. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

You smile. “Good.” Turning to me, you ask, “Want to have a drink?” I start to shake my head. “Oh, come on now. I bought you a drink.”

“Oh, is that your claim to fame? You bought me a drink, so now I have to hang out with you?”

You shake your head. “No. I figured we were getting to know one another. Why don’t we just talk?”

I contemplate it for a second. “I don’t think so.”

“The way I see it, Stella, your options are sitting on this lonely barstool by yourself or hanging out with me.”

I tilt my head. “And who are you?”

“Well,” you say, pulling a beer out of the cooler. “I’m a pretty awesome person.” Popping the lid off, you take a sip of the beer without taking your eyes off me. My heart jumps in my chest. I don’t understand why I’m feeling like this. I’ve never felt like this with anyone. Especially someone like you. “So, what’ll it be?” you ask, breaking me from my thoughts. I lift my head and see you’re holding the bottle of chardonnay, preparing to pour it into my empty glass. A tiny smile grows on my face. “I’m going to take that as a yes.” You don’t waste any more time as you fill my glass three-quarters of the way.

I shake my head and release a small laugh. “You’re ridiculous, Alex.”

“What?” You put the cork back in the bottle, placing it in the cooler.

“Nothing.”

“There’s always something behind a nothing.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”

You raise an eyebrow and smirk at me. “Really, Stel?”

For some reason I glimmer with excitement. I don’t like when people call me by my nickname. It means they’re comfortable. I’m not comfortable around many. There aren’t many I can let my guard down with. “What?”

You chuckle. “I’m always right.”

I laugh and nod at my glass. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“No.”

“No? That’s all I get?”

“I figured you’d have to finish the glass of wine. You know? Since I paid for it and all.” The corners of your mouth form into a smile.

I roll my eyes. “Oh my god.”

“Anyway, it took you forever to drink your first glass, and I want to get to know you. I just want to have a conversation. No harm. No foul.”

I can’t look at you. You’re making me nervous. My face feels hot. You start to ask something, when a man comes over, giving you a warm look. The gentleman is kind of cute. He has a beard and mustache, and a little bit of weight on him. He reminds me of a big ol’ teddy bear you just want to cuddle.

“Hey, you want to play some darts?”

“Nah,” you say, still looking at me. “I’m going to stay right here. Thanks, though.”

Flutters appear in my stomach again. I don’t understand this.

“Whatever,” he slurs, stomping away.

A giggle escapes.

“You think that’s funny?”

“Yeah, sort of.” You grab a clean bowl from underneath the shelf and a bag of pistachios. I laugh louder.

“What?” You pour some nuts into the bowl.

“Aren’t they supposed to be peanuts?”

You don’t skip a beat. “I don’t like peanuts. I like pistachios.”

“It’s different.”

You crack open a pistachio and toss it in your mouth. “Being different makes you stand out, Stel.”

“I don’t want to stand out. I just want to be normal,” I mutter.

Popping another one in, you say, “Normal is boring. It’s overrated.”

My mouth twitches. I never thought of it that way. “Yeah, I guess.”

You nod at an empty booth in the corner. “Shall we?”

“Sure.”

“Great.” I can tell my answer wasn’t what you were expecting.

You start to walk behind the bar when you notice I haven’t moved yet. “What?”

“You were nervous.” It’s not a question. I don’t need an answer. I already know.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You lean across the bar top. “Like I said. You’re intimidating. Come on. Let’s go have that drink. Lord knows it’ll take you forever.”

Getting up from the bar, I grab my wine and start to walk toward the empty booth. “Already trying to get rid of me?”

Standing in front of me, you shake your head. “No.”

“Then what is it?”

“I can’t wait to know everything about you.”

Relief washes over me when you don’t wait to see my expression. Happiness. Bewilderment. Confusion.

Happiness because you actually want to get to know me.

Bewilderment because I’m surprised you’re so straightforward. With Thomas I knew what I wanted and went after it. With you, I’m…

Confused, I don’t understand the emotions I’m experiencing. It’s new to me, and I’m not sure I like it.

Pushing all of those feelings aside, I follow behind you. As I sit down, I cross a leg over the other, trying to calm my nerves. You place the bowl of pistachios between us, then take a sip of your beer. You don’t look away from me, which I find extremely intimidating. “What?” Quickly, I grab my wine and take a gulp. I need to calm my nerves.

“So, what do you do?” Your voice is so calm and collected. It puts me even further on edge.

I place my glass down and release a small breath. “I’m a personal assistant.”

“Why?”

It takes me by surprise, and I smile.

“What?”

I shake my head. “You’re very blunt. I guess that’s the right word.”

“I don’t like to waste time.”

I laugh. “Obviously.” As you crack open a few more pistachios, I ask, “So, a bartender?”

You shrug. “It’s for extra cash.”

I’m intrigued, so I lean in to hear everything. “What else do you do?”

“I paint.”

“What do you paint?”

“Anything.”

I take a sip of my wine and slowly grab a few pistachios. You smirk at me. “What?” I ask as I crack open one and plop it in my mouth.

“I knew you’d like them.”

My grin widens.

You take a few sips of your beer. “So what do you want to do?”

I tilt my head, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” you say, “you clearly don’t want to be a personal assistant.”

“How do you know?”

“Besides the extreme amount of disgust I heard in your voice?”

I laugh at your observation, and before taking a sip of wine I ask, “How can you be so sure of yourself, Alex?”

“Your eyes didn’t glimmer when you told me what you did. So…” You lean in further and place your hands on the table. “What do you want to do?”

I look back and forth between your eyes, getting lost. Most importantly, I feel safe, something I haven’t felt in a really long time. “I want to own a coffee shop and sell cupcakes and cookies and little pies.” I drop my gaze because I’m lost in a dream I want as a reality.

“Why don’t you?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is.” I scrunch my eyebrows together, sucking the corner of my bottom lip into my mouth. “What?”

I shake my head. “You’re just…”

“I’m just?”

“You’re not like most people.”

You shrug. “Most people haven’t gone through what I’ve gone through.”

I lean in, completely caught by your emotions. “What have you gone through, Alex?”

You grab your bottle of beer and take a few gulps, finishing it. “I’m going to go get another one.”

“Oh,” I mutter. “Okay.”

You start to scoot out of the booth, but then you stop. “Another time I’ll tell you.”

I look into your eyes. “There’s going to be another time?”

You tilt your head and grin. “Yeah, at least I’d like that. Would you?”

“Yes.” I might be, possibly, potentially seeing Thomas tonight, but I’m not committed. I figure I can do whatever the hell I want. Both Thomas and I made that arrangement over two years ago with no changes in the agreement. Now or ever.

“Good.” You wink. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” I sip my chardonnay. I can’t believe how calm and relaxed I feel. For once in a very long time, it has nothing to do with the alcohol in my system, but everything to do with Alex McNeil. The bartender who served me as I waited for someone else. Popping a few more pistachios in my mouth, I wait patiently for you to come back to me. I don’t look at the clock on the wall. I don’t think about the others in the room. Just you, and how you make me feel.