Gianna wanted to laugh at how easily she played herself into the clichéd problems of a clichéd twenty-one year old. But sitting alone at the bar while strangers milled around having a good time on a Friday night meant that laughing was the last thing on her mind.
She supposed her boss thought he was doing her a favour by always letting her off early on Fridays. And usually it was nice, especially when she didn’t return home to yet another wedding invitation owled to her, which she promptly chucked into the bin. So what else could she do besides go to that random, modern bar that everyone raved about to blow all her hard earned cash on? (She had boxed wine at home, but she really wasn’t looking forward to hearing Daisy tell her how stupid it was to drink herself silly over other people getting married when she sees that chucked invitation. So yeah, expensive bar she really couldn’t afford it was.)
“Oh, thank you, Bert-not-Ernie.” She smiled a watery smile at the bartender, who was the only person who paid her any attention. And why would anyone? Her dark hair was still in a tight ponytail, and she didn’t have time to change out of her greasy uniform before she stomped out of her apartment and into the bar. To be perfectly honest she was surprised that no one tried to stop her from entering. “Cheers to us, Bert, for being perfectly alone and miserable tonight.” Gia raised her glass of fruity whatever the hell it was and toasted him, waving away his protests of being called Bert when that was not his name. Pah. What would his name matter after ten more of these sinfully sweet drinks?
With yet another drink burning its way down her throat, the twenty-one year old was beginning to lose count of exactly how many drinks she’s had. And she might have conceded to beginning to have fun if it weren’t for the “you look lonely, let me buy you a drink” whispered disgustingly close to her. Gia rolled her eyes and slapped a single galleon on the counter, taking that as her cue to finally call it a night. Just because she didn’t like traditionally handsome guys didn’t mean she was about to start dating King Kong’s first cousin either. She tried to slide past the stranger’s bulky frame (ha, bulky was barely covering it- he was shaped like a building, and not the expensive, well-built kind either), and she would have made it, if he hadn’t reached out suddenly and grabbed her.
Oh hell no.
The hand on her arm was large, heavy and uncomfortably moist. “Stop it. Get away from me!” What intended to be a firm statement came out sounding whiny and lame, even to her own ears. She wasn’t really that far gone to defend herself, but she was buzzed just enough to not want to bother with guys who “just want to show you a good time”. Besides, she was never that talented of a witch, and now she wasn’t even sure she knew what a wand was, let alone use it to hex someone. Trying to shake his hand off to no avail, her eyes made its rounds in the crowded bar, seeking out a potential helper. Her panic levels rose just a bit higher when the guy’s grip on her arm tightened, and attempted to drag her away from where she was.
Come on, she pleaded with her eyes, anyone will do…
