At the bar sat a woman; one hand constantly held on to her glass. The other continuously strayed to her hair; putting a strand of hair behind her ear, and then freeing it again; combing it down… to then continue the cycle.

It was as if she forgot the bruise she had purposely tried to cover up with her hairstyle. Strange; he thought.

But it told the man all he needed to know. He read her like an open book within the second.

Passing her he brushed against her shoulder and it made her jump; as if every fibre in her being shied away from the human contact.

Quickly she re-adjusted that same strand of hair. Attempting to not look like she even noticed him. Something she failed miserably at.

He went for the digital jukebox and changed the music from some modern and all too loud bump and grind to something with a melody. Something even older than she was.

Something better.

He sat himself next to her and observantly looked at her drink; it was almost gone.

"I love that song" she tried to compensate for her social anxiety by being the first to speak. Trying to persuade herself that it gave her some small advantage. An inch of control over the situation.

"Me too. Much better than that modern stuff" he gave her a toothy smile.

Had she not been so nervous she might have found him attractive with his pearly white teeth, dark curls and that neatly fitted suit.

She was that easy to impress.

He even smelled good… He was almost too perfect.

And that was her problem… The same old problem.

Her red lips surrounded the black straw and she emptied the liquid contents of the glass; not knowing how to react. She never did.

All that remained was the ice.

He signalled the bartender who lazily scuttled over to their end of the bar. It being a weeknight meant the bar was near empty…

"Two of those" was the way he ordered with a wink, pointing at her glass. She had not once let it out of her hand or sight. The tender nodded and went to work with mixing.

"So, what are we drinking?" he moved himself closer to her from his stool. She fought the urge to recoil. His gaze seemed all-consuming.

"I—Irish R-rose" she stuttered. And internally beat herself up for stuttering. Which never did anything to help that...

"A whiskey-gal" he joked "I wouldn't have guessed" his brow raised; making him look genuinely impressed with her choice.

Her cheeks flushed with red heat. He certainly did know how to press the right buttons this one…

The barman placed the drinks in front of them and she quickly grabbed hers and took a pensive sip. As if she was testing it for poison or worse.

"Thank you" she remembered that the man was paying for hers.

He tasted his as well and smiled.

"You've got great taste" the way he looked at her made it seem like he wasn't talking about the contents of his glass.

Her heart was hammering against her chest.

"So what came first?" he asked.

First. What? He caught her off guard. Carefully he took hold of her wrist and brushed his thumb gently over the tattoo there. "The rose or your love of the drink?" he looked into her eyes and read her ink with his digit.

"The… the rose" she sighed. She felt a hot electricity buzz from him into her. It even took her several seconds to remember her carnal fear of human touch…

She withdrew her hand and her nervous tick resumed. She put the strand behind her ear; revealing that bruise.

His mouth opened and he pretended this was the first time he noticed it.

"Oh! I'd hate to see the other guy!" he joked, trying to ease the mood.

Her lips curled into something that could be interpreted as a shy smile.

Instantly she placed the strand back. Hiding her imperfection from the world again.

She closed her eyes. Maybe she should have listened to her own anxiety and stayed home…

"I'm William, by the way" he changed the subject, seeing that it embarrassed her. He held out his hand to hers; but she refused to take it. She had used up her quota of human touch for the week.

"Cat…" she replied reluctantly. She was looking for a way to escape already.

"Cat? Short for Catherine… or like a furry one?" he chuckled; still attempting to make her feel at ease with him.

"Just Cat" she sighed. Her eyes were darting towards the door. He noticed how her feet were even aiming towards it. He was losing her.

"Listen" she looked back at him. "I have a dog" she blurted out. "He doesn't like men… he'd bite you…" she stumbled over the words; shaking heavily by now.

"Oh would he?" he gave a wolfish grin. "And where would he bite me then? Just so I could be prepared"

"Your arse" the woman clutched her purse and took a big sip of her drink.

He chuckled. This was her version of making up a boyfriend to get out of the situation.

This was certainly new.

"Maybe I wouldn't mind" he stood as she did. Her front teeth dug hard into her bottom lip to stop it trembling. "You have gentle hands, perhaps you could nurse me. Maybe it would be worth it"

She resembled a frightened deer. Okay. That was as far as he got.

"Can I have your number at least? I'd like to talk to you again" he changed strategy on the spot. The second she was about to run.

No. That would be her answer. But she remembered her promise. 'Just say yes'… yes to everything.

"Sure" her smile was too kind. She grabbed a napkin and jotted it down. For a second she thought about adding a fake number… but she couldn't even think of one. So it happened… the man got his way.

This one as well.

She almost ran out of the bar; only nearly escaping a fall down the stairs outside.

The moment she was gone his dashing smile faded. His eyes rolled and he ruffled his curls. He paid the barman and was on his way home.

Step one completed. This should be easy.