The story behind feet

Yes, I know this is a bar but you’re a really hot bartender and I panicked and said “chocolate milk” when you asked me what I wanted to drink, now I just want to crawl away and hide forever.

Her laugh was the cutest sound Jason had heard since the Siamese kitty incident, which he didn’t want to think about at all at the time. He couldn’t stop staring, and he looked like the world’s biggest idiot. “Okay, let’s do this one more time. Hi, my name’s Jason.” He offered his hand for her to shake.

“Hi Jason, I’m a hot bartender, what can I get you?” She smiled warmly but didn’t shake his hand.

“Chocolate milk!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and her eyes laughed once more, but this time it wasn’t a kind laugh.

“Then chocolate milk it is,” she turned and he stood there, wondering how hard he would have to hit his head against the counter to knock himself out. 

“You are pretty bad at this, aren’t you?”

“Oh shut up Marshal. You know I hate hitting on people, I just get flustered and never know what to say. ”

“C’mon Jason, brighten up! You just need the step up your game, dude. Let’s go dance and maybe I can get a girl to talk to you before you freak her out.” Jason sighed. Marshal told him that exact same sentence every time they went clubbing. But tonight, Jason wasn’t up for it. 

“You know what? I think I am gonna call it a night for today, you don’t need a wingman, and I’ll only screw things for you. Go have fun.” Marshal tried to persuade him to stay, but after a few tries he gave up and disappeared into the mass of bodies. Jason sighed again and walked outside.

The line was longer and longer every minute, the security guard was as serious as he had been when they stepped inside the club, and the city air smelled as smoky as always. Things tended to stay the same, and Jason liked it that way. He looked at the cloudy night sky and started walking home. He walked slowly, thinking, looking at everyone’s feet and trying to guess their stories. Then, coffee spilled all over him as a pair of old sneakers stopped in front of him.

“Oh shit, I am so sorry!” Jason felt the burning coffee on his arm and chest and gasped. He raised his eyes, cursing under his breath.

“No problem, it was my fault I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he muttered.

“Well, that makes two of us then.” Music. Her voice sounded like music. Jason didn’t understand why, but her voice simply was music. He stared, for the second time that night.

“May I get you another coffee to make it up to you?” She laughed, musical giggles lit up her round face.

“Only if you let me buy you a new scarf, ‘cause I seem to have ruined this one.” A pause. A look. A smile. And, slowly, a hand shake.

“I’m Gloria.”

“Jason.”