It wasn’t a bar that strangers walked into. It was obvious from the way the conversation stopped when I’d entered. But I’d long outgrown being self-conscious about those kinds of things. Nowadays, my preoccupations were bigger. I shouldn’t have kneed Lucien in the groin. I’d grabbed some money, my phone and a key to the apartment and I’d run away. Had he been out of line? I didn’t think so, but I could never tell for sure. There was nothing rational about my fear; it was instinctive and paralyzing. Lucien was right. This was a problem I needed to take care of. The place was packed. It wasn’t a large space and every seat was taken except for one by a corner of the bar, so I made my way there. When the man next to me turned and asked if I was American and smiled at my grumpy response, my breath caught for a moment because he had the nicest, friendliest smile. When he grinned, two dimples appeared in his cheeks softening the hard lines on his face.
