Olivia

Here I am again, another typical Saturday night here at the Stage On Broadway bar. Don’t get me wrong, I love the bar scene. Live music ever night, dancing, friends, and guys buying you drinks �" especially the guys buying you drinks. I never got that where I’m from. That’s why I decided the day I turned 18 I was packing up and leaving that Kentucky s**t hole, in which I was unfortunately born, and making my way to the great city of Nashville. I had to work all through high school to save up enough money, which sucked, especially for my social life. But now, here I am at 23 and I couldn’t be happier. I’ve met a few friends here, which is good considering I left everyone behind when I moved. It didn’t bother me much, a bunch of hillbillies anyway. And when I say hillbillies I don’t mean Blake Sheldon kinda hillbilly, I mean straight up out of hillbilly hell. So count your blessings if you were born anywhere out of the Bible belt. But anyway, I’ve made work friends, bar friends, some celebrity friends. Yes, celebrity friends… Okay, okay wannabe celebrity friends. But that’s the beauty of Nashville; everyone here either wants to be something or has already made it. So its’ not uncommon to just hit up small talk with some rando on the street and they just happen to be on the billboard music’s hot 100. Me? Nah I don’t strive to become anything. I already am something. I’m me. I don’t need millions of people watching my every move, weird men chasing me on the street trying to take my picture. No thanks, to much pressure. Though this one time a director did stop me on the street screaming, “You’d be perfect for my character, please go to this audition!” But I mean here in Nashville who doesn’t get that? Right…?

So for now you can usually find me down town on Main Street. There is pretty much a different bar for every different genre of music. Don’t feel like country? That’s fine, go next door and break your neck head banging to AC/DC ‘s cover band. Man do I love it here, but tonight I feel tired; I don’t feel like head banging or dancing, I just want a drink.

 Per usual all the typical people are here, especially the loud obnoxious drunks that get a little too touchy feely. Usually I can play along; just long enough to get the free drink. Then I’m gone, call me a tease �" I don’t care. Tonight though I’m not in my typical bubbly, flirty mood, I’m in rare form. So I make my way over to the bar an order a hefty glass of red wine �" also rare. Not my typical three shots of vodka and an orange juice to chase. I really need to cool it on the vodka, I think to myself as I hand the bartender my money. As I reach for my wine glass I smile at the girl beside me. I double take her so fast my purse almost tips over my red wine glass.

 She stares amusingly at me “Ummm…”

S**t, she totally noticed that.

“Oh” I laugh weirdly… “Sorry, you just look so familiar to me. Have we met                               before?”

 A smile plays on the girl’s lips. “I don’t think so because you don’t look at all             familiar to me.”

I purse my lips together. “Oh, well sorry for being creepy.” I half laugh.

I grab my wine and start to walk away as I hear her say “Hey! Do you wanna sit with me?” At this point I am just plain embarrassed and feeling slightly awkward. So I am taken back when she actually asks me to sit with her. She must be able to sense that I am surprise by her offering because her face turns soft and she says

 “Yeah there’s an extra seat here and I could use some company.”

“Really, you want me to sit with you after that?” I joke. Gaining some                            confidence.

She laughs whole-heartedly “Sure, I’m not here with anyone so you can sit if             you want.”

What a strange turn of events I think to myself. “Uh, yeah I’d love to.” I tell her. “I could use some company too.”

 

As I take a sip of my wine, I glance at the girl that sits beside me. I notice immediately that she is quite pretty; she could of hopped right out of a Cosmo magazine. She has blonde hair a little below her shoulders and blue eyes. I scowl, typical�"I bet she dyes her hair that color. Her makeup is perfect and each strand of her hair seems as though god himself hair sprayed it perfectly into place. I feel instant jealously. Damn stupid girl brain always comparing. Note to self: gain some f*****g confidence. Surely someone who looks like this walks around with their nose in the air. Yet in the weird array of bar light she looks so laid back, happy even as she looks at me, waiting for me to speak.

“Hey, so I didn’t catch your name?” I say trying to break the ice.

“My name is Olivia. What’s yours?”

“Oh, well first off, you have a lovely name. And secondly my name is Emma.”

“Emma…” She repeats.

 I drum my fingers nervously on the bar top. “Yep, Emma.” I say after what                felt like minutes of silence.

 

What is she doing? It’s just my name. Why is she staring so intently at me? Do I have lipstick on my teeth or something? Oh god. As my inner thoughts rage on I hear her finally say

“I like that name.”  

“Oh” I say relieved. “It’s a fairly common name you know.”

She just shrugs her shoulders not phased by my comment at all. Weird.

 

“So…” I say trying a new approach. “What brings you to the bar tonight, stranger?”

She smiles at the stranger nickname I have just given her.

“I just wanted to get a drink after work. I picked this place because I liked the           sound of the music the band was playing.”

Finally a topic I’m more comfortable with. “Oh yeah, their Diesel Fire. They    play here a lot.” I explain to her.

 

“So does that mean you come here a lot?” she asks me.

Well so much for that conversation. “Yeah this is my favorite bar on Main      Street. You caught me on a good night, any other night I would be the             annoying drunk girl dancing in the corner.”

She laughs, “Hey we’ve all been there.”

 

Taking a moment to sip more of my wine, my mind wonders off. Ya know, I think to myself, I have been meaning to get a good friend. God knows all my other friends are self-absorbed b*****s who probably don’t give two f***s about me �" but yet I still hang out with them. What is wrong with me? “Afraid to be alone” my conscious chimes in. Hey shut up. Olivia here doesn’t seem like a b***h, she seems nice enough. Note to self: stop having conversations with myself inside my head.

 

“Hey Olivia.” I say. “I suddenly feel like drinking something a little stronger.                Wanna take a shot with me?”