It’s What I Do- Flash Fiction

*** Continuing with the pieces I am writing in my wonderful writing group on Wednesdays, this fun little flash fiction item- It’s What I Do- just flowed out of me last night. I can see maybe continuing it from time to time… I hope you enjoy where it goes today!***

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“It’s what I do! I drink and I know things!” I turned my head to see who had too boldly proclaimed this motto as their own, and there he stood. He was the complete opposite of Tyrion Lanister, the original owner of that phrase- at least in appearance. Standing six feet tall, his dark blond hair was close cropped at the side but fell in a wild swoop over his face. His eyes were a deep navy blue, yet distinctly bright in his deep-set eyes. His mouth had a small twist to the left, and he was using that sexy lopsided look to gather even more women around him. He was bragging and loud yet somehow completely sexy.

I watched as his admirers and friends all vied for his attention, amused. He really thinks he is the big man on campus. HA! He has no idea. As I sipped my ruby red merlot in the corner, I watched and knew. I know things too, I thought, and this guy? He ain’t shit and he’ll be mine when the night is over. The real question is, do I want him? I guess we’ll find out.

One after another, he gave attention to the women around him. The blond in the low cut red silk shirt and the super cute black heels, she’s a contender I thought. His sparkling eyes seeking hers, over and over. The attentive black woman, in a form fitting coral dress, her long dreads swishing as she “shyly” turned her head when he looked her way. She definitely had a chance. I knew the brunette with the gorgeous deep red lipstick and outgoing personality was never going to “win” the man. She was too bold. He was a lion seeking a gazelle not a lioness.

He caught my eye, but I simply raised my eyebrow, tipped my glass, and turned purposefully towards the bartender to order another. If he needs a gazelle, I can be a gazelle. A gazelle! HA! A lioness in gazelle’s clothing more like it. But guys like him, they aren’t subtle enough to catch the difference, not when they’re in the midst of their audience, their people, their crowd. They crow about like emperors, kings of all they survey. Who are we to tell them differently. We can’t. We don’t. We give them a stage and we honor their hotness, boldness, loudness like gold medal Olympians.

I’ve paid him so little attention, now he was seeking to catch my eye again. This time I held his gaze a little longer and gave his audience a brief once over, then dismissed the whole lot with downturn of my mouth and a slight nod of my head. His face registered a bit of shock but he quickly recovered. He’s not so easily dismissed. I’m not so easily seduced. It’s a fair match.