Playful Sloth

"A Nervous Smile, Three Men Watching, and the Kind of Night You Don’t Tell Your Friends About" - Debbie

Added 2025-11-26 21:16:24 +0000 UTC

She blinked. The light was dim, filtered through slatted blinds over a bar window that didn’t look like it belonged anywhere near home. A soft hum of conversation and the scrape of chairs blended with the distant jukebox whispering some slow blues tune. Debbie didn’t remember how she got here, not exactly. One minute it was her quiet kitchen, half a glass of wine, then—this.

The scent of aged whiskey, aftershave, and something distinctly male hung in the air.

Three men occupied the booth in the corner. One, all shoulders and crooked grin, leaned back like he owned the place. The second sipped amber liquid slow and deliberate. The third, broad and quiet, stared over the rim of his glass, watching her.

Debbie felt the warmth crawl up her neck, a nervous, almost giddy smile tugging at her lips. "This... definitely isn’t the supermarket," she said, voice a half-laugh.

"Depends what you're shopping for," the grinning one answered, tapping the seat beside him.

Knife-eyes raised an eyebrow, letting his gaze linger. “Or maybe you’re exactly what we ordered.”

She laughed, but it caught in her throat. Not fear—just the thrill of being seen again, really seen. Her eyes flicked between them. "Do I know you guys?"

“No,” the quiet one finally said, low and gravelly. “But you will.”