At the Bar With Dean

You were shooting pool when he walked in, but you quit soon after. There was no way that you could concentrate on the game with him watching you. And the way he watches...appreciatively and with a slight smile, makes you feel a little weak in the knees. You walk up to the bar and he gives you a nod.
"You play a good game."
"Thanks." It's lame, but what else can you do? Somehow he looks even better up close which makes him, no contest, the best looking guy that's ever walked through those doors.
"How about if I buy you a drink?" he asks.
You pause for a second so you don't come off as way too eager. "I guess you could," you say with a shrug like your heart isn't in your throat.
He grins, seeing through you in a second, and signals to the bartender. As you drink together, you learn that his name is Dean and that he's passing through town with his brother, who stopped off at the library. Dean calls him a bitch, but he says it affectionately. You're drinking a little morosely now, wondering if he's just killing time until his brother is done in the library.
"I can get the next round," you offer when he puts his bottle down, but he shakes his head.
"I've gotta get going."
You only have about a second to be disappointed before he leans forward, his hand cupping the back of your neck. He draws you forward, his voice rough in your ear as he says, "You could come with me though."
You turn your head and his lips meet yours. The kiss is slow, an exploration of possibilities and a preview of one of the best nights of your life.

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