MidReal Story
Charm in Banter
Scenario: The story starts with two strangers talking and the guy starts telling dirty funny pickup lines the girl smiles at every one them
Create my version of this story
I don’t know what I was doing in that bar, but there I was, sitting on a barstool with a vodka soda in my hand.
I looked around the dimly lit space, trying to figure out how I ended up sitting alone in a bar on a Thursday night.
Then I remembered: I’d had the longest day ever and needed a drink, so I came to the first place I happened upon.
I worked at an advertising agency in NYC, and my current project had me pulling all-nighters for the past week.
I was there to meet Sarah, my best friend who would soon be graduating from a prestigious culinary school.
We promised to celebrate her graduation tonight with a few too many drinks—just the two of us, no men allowed.
And by no men allowed, I meant no one-night stands.
Because let’s be honest: we were both hopeless romantics who liked to flirt with the idea of love at first sight.
Of course, we never admitted that to anyone but each other.
I heard the bar door open behind me, but I didn’t turn to look.
Until I felt someone slide onto the barstool next to mine.
He cleared his throat, and I turned to give him a questioning look.
The man was tall and muscular with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through me.
He had a chiseled jaw and the most devilish grin on his face.
“Hi,” he said, sticking out his hand.
“I’m Alex Thompson.” He looked me up and down, never taking his eyes off mine.
I took his hand in mine and shook it openpalmed, giving him a half smile.
I was always giving guys half smiles.
“I’m Emily Johnson.”
He held his hand out for a few seconds too long before finally pulling it away and resting his elbow on the bar.
I noticed he was wearing a tight black T-shirt that hugged his broad chest and ran my eyes down his muscular arms to his large hands.
A rugged type of sexy.
Not that I would know from experience.
Not that I would ever want to know from experience.
“Can I get you another drink, Emily Johnson?”
he asked, and the way he said my name made me shiver.
I bit my lower lip, trying to hide my smile, but it was no use.
It was always fun meeting guys who used funny and dirty pickup lines on me when I was out at bars, and this guy was definitely different from the ones I usually met.
I shrugged my shoulders and finally gave him a full smile.
My lips curled up at the edges, and my dimples appeared on my cheeks.
It was my signature move—the move that made all the boys swoon.
“I don’t know,” I said, looking down at my half-empty glass of vodka soda before picking it up and taking another sip.
“I’d have to think about it.”
“Think long and hard,” he said, his eyes looking me up and down again as he leaned back against the bar.
“Because you don’t want to rush into anything, do you?”
I swallowed hard, trying not to let his dirty funny pickup line get to me.
He smiled again, and I bit down on my lower lip as he reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper.
Then he put it in front of me and slid it across the bar.
I picked it up, looking down at the words written in big black letters.
It was a list of three little words: Is your name Wi-Fi?
Because I’m really feeling a connection.
My eyes went wide as I tried to fight back a smile, but it was no use.
It was official: this guy was different.
And I liked different.
“It’s just a pickup line,” he said, breaking me from my trance.
“A dirty funny pickup line,” I said, looking up at him and holding up the piece of paper in front of me.
“I’m not that easy, you know.”
He gave me a crooked smile and raised an eyebrow, and for a second, I thought he was going to lean in and whisper something dirty in my ear.
But he didn’t.
He just shrugged his shoulders and gave me a cute little smirk.
“Who said I wanted you to be easy?”
“I assume you have more where that came from?”
He smiled, and I slid the piece of paper back across the bar toward him as he took it and put it back into his pocket.
He rested his elbow on the bar and leaned in closer to me, almost like he was about to tell me a secret.
“Let’s just say I have a million of them, but only a few are clean enough to say in public.”
“I’ll take dirty over clean any day of the week,” I said with a smile, looking down at my glass one last time before taking a final sip and setting it aside.
He made a funny face, his eyes going wide as he tried to play it cool, but it was no use—I could tell he was flustered by what I’d just said.
And for some reason, I found his reaction to be totally adorable.
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, and he finally let out a laugh as he turned his head and looked away from me for a few seconds before finally turning back to face me.
“So, Emily Johnson,” he said, “do you like your men like you like your coffee?”
I looked up at him and gave him a confused look, waiting for him to say the words I’d heard a million times before: sweet and light, or black and strong, or something like that.
But he didn’t say anything.
Instead, he just smiled, his eyes locked onto mine as I looked at him with a puzzled expression on my face.
I couldn’t help but smile, even though I was shocked by his question.
Most guys would have told me how pretty I was or how nice my dress looked on me or how they wanted to take me home and kiss me all over—because those were the types of things guys said to me when they flirted with me at bars.
But this guy was different.
He was bold, confident, and funny, and I was totally into it.
I shook away the shock of his question and finally found the words to respond to him.
“Actually, I’m more of a tea girl myself.”
“Well, well, well,” he said, leaning back against the bar as he smiled and looked down at his drink before taking another sip and setting it aside.
“You know, Emily Johnson, I have one more question for you.” He paused for a moment and looked at me, his eyes locked onto mine as I waited for him to continue.
“I’m listening,” I said, leaning toward him and giving him a smile as I waited for him to make his next move so I could figure out what to say next.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?Or should I walk by you again?”
And then he laughed, and so did I, even though I really wanted him to walk by me again so that I could check out his ass one more time before making up my mind about whether I thought he was cute or not.
“Slick move, Thompson,” I said, impressed by the funny yet totally over-the-top pickup line that had managed to charm me nonetheless.
“I’ll give you an A for effort on that one.” And then I paused for a moment and looked into his eyes before finally speaking again.
“But you’re still not really my type.” The words came out before I could stop them from leaving my mouth, and the moment they did, I regretted them instantly.
I couldn’t believe I’d just said that to him.
Who was I to say what my type was?
And why did I have to be attracted only to the shy, sweet types who never had the balls to come up and talk to me in the first place?
Why couldn’t I be attracted to a guy like this who wasn’t afraid to come up and talk to me and tell me how pretty I was?
A guy like Alex Thompson.
A guy who oozed confidence and charm and made my knees weak and my heart flutter as I looked into his eyes and tried not to think about how hot he was standing there in front of me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed by the words I’d just spoken.
“They just remind me of something my grandmother would have painted onto the side of an old barn in some farm town in the middle of nowhere.” And then I gave him a smile and shook my head before finally speaking again.
“But you’re still not really my type, though.” He laughed and raised an eyebrow at me, and I could tell that he was totally into the fact that I was playing hard to get.
“Ouch, Johnson,” he said, pretending to be hurt by the words I’d just spoken.
“That one really hurt my feelings, you know.”
“I know, right?”
I said with a smile.
I couldn’t help it.
His grin was totally infectious, and I felt myself smiling more and more as I looked into his eyes and waited for him to make his next move so that I could decide whether or not I’d let him buy me another drink.
