This is a short story I wrote and am workshopping in my creative writing class this semester. Enjoy it or hate it, it's a pretty personal piece and I've been more proud of this work than anything I have written (creatively) in the last 5 years.

Resolve
"You could learn to love me, you know." She stared at him, waiting for him to look up.
"I already do love you, just not in the way you need me to." He smiled, avoiding her intense gaze.
"I suppose that's fair." She shrugged.
"Besides," he began, finally meeting her stare, "I'm not good for you. I'm not really much good for anyone." His smile turned into a stern glance. He seemed to move his gaze away from her as quickly as possible.
"I'm sure that's not true." She waited for a moment, gauging his response. "But, to be honest, our story is almost star-crossed." She was laughing now, for the first time since they sat down for a drink.
"Oh yeah? That's from Romeo and Juliet right? Wasn't that like, the Montagues and Capulets?" He looked confused, and that made her laugh harder.
"Yeah, something like that. But, I guess I mean the way it's never right. It's like we're meant to be. Or really, I'm meant to be with you. And yet, you're destiny is different. Somehow, I don't think that's fair." Her laughter stopped and she looked away from him for a second.
"Well, I'm sure I'll stop getting in your path eventually." He smiled and nudged her like he was telling a joke and she didn't get the punch line.
"Honestly," she looked at him seriously again, "I don't think you will ever get out of my way." She sighed, and then laughed to herself. He looked at her, stranger than before. It was almost like he was trying to read her mind. "There's nothing in here worth wasting your telepathic powers on." She sniffed, catching his gaze.
"I guess I just don't know what to say. I wish I could return your feelings."
"Yeah. Me too. But like I said, you could grow to love me. I could make you fall in love with me. I'd watch out for that, if I were you. Sometimes I do it without even realizing it." She laughed again. He was beginning to enjoy her laughter in a way he never noticed before.
"I'm sure you do. I don't even think I know what love is."
"You're not missing out. I just threw the last two years of my life away, for you. And look at me now. I'm drinking a screwdriver and trying to talk you into loving me."
They sat in silence for a long time. She sipped her drink and he smoked a cigarette. He checked the time almost compulsively. They avoided looking at each other. She crossed and uncrossed her legs on the barstool a dozen times and soon lit up a cigarette in an attempt to keep herself occupied. The bar was empty, like small town bars are in the middle of the day. A bad country song played on the juke box and two old men sat in the furthest corner of the bar smoking cigars and shaking bar dice. The bartender was mindlessly cleaning the bar, waiting for an opportunity to replenish a drink. Finally, the girl sat her empty screwdriver glass down and waited for the bartender to come over.
"We're doing a shot of tequila." She stared at the boy. He was a little taken aback.
"I have to drive home eventually. I'm pretty sure we just discussed that I can't stay with you forever." He smiled again and lightly punched her in the arm.
"No. You can do one shot. Then you can sit here with me for another hour and we can talk about things that are less serious than my love for you."
"Like the economy?"
"Or the War in Iraq."
"Maybe even AIDs in Africa?"
"Two shots of tequila and you had better bring the lime and salt, this guy drinks like a woman." She told the bartender. The bartender laughed and looked at the boy. "Now, do you know how to do this?" She looked at him as though he had just been born.
"Just because I don't drink as much as I used to doesn't mean I can't do a shot of tequila. I don't need your lime and salt." He laughed, putting his arm around her and pulling her into him. "But if you think you're going to cloud my judgment and take advantage of me, you're wrong." He breathed into her ear. She sat up straight, shrugging his arm off of her.
"Oh honestly. I just poured my entire heart out to you over a couple of screwdrivers and a pack of cigarettes. Just take the shot of tequila and I promise I won't try anything funny." Her tone was more offended than her face was, and he laughed at her again. The bartender filled the shot glasses, and they licked their wrists and poured the salt. Before they took the shot, they looked at each other. It was almost a dare, to see who would start the shot first. Of course she did. They almost died laughing when they turned to face each other and their faces were all screwed up from the limes in their mouths.
"Oh man, that is always the worst idea I ever have." She laughed. "Especially if I'm not getting anything out of it later." She eyed him suspiciously and he couldn't help but laugh at her.
"I wish I knew why you liked me so much. I would change it. You deserve to love someone better." He was serious now; he put his hand on top of hers. He felt her ring finger. There was a deep mark from where her engagement ring used to sit. Her ears turned red and her cheeks followed.
"I do deserve to love someone better." She looked down at her empty shot glass. "I deserve more than I think anyone will ever be willing to give me." She put the glass back on the bar and shook her head at the bartender offering her another screwdriver.
"Somehow, I doubt that." He pulled her in close to him again. She tried not to breathe in too much, like she was afraid to smell him. He must have noticed, because he let her sit up. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such an asshole. And that's what I'm being. I told you I can't love you and I'm not acting like it."
"It's okay." She was digging through her purse for a lighter and had a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.
"I didn't know you smoked so much." He laughed at her, lighting the cigarette for her.
"Only when I drink or I'm nervous." She took a long drag then let the cigarette hang loosely between her index and middle finger on her left hand. "Do you know anything about Freudian Psychology?"
"It sounds familiar. Isn't he all revved up on sex?"
"Yeah, something like that. He has stages of development you can get fixated in. I think I was fixated in the oral stage." He looked at her, almost surprised.
"Wow. Maybe I do need another shot of tequila."
"Oh quit being such a pervert." They laughed. He took a drag of her cigarette and stared at her intently. She was digging through her purse again, and he wasn't sure what she was looking for.
"Why can't it always be like this?" He took her chin in his hand and lifted it up to look at him.
"Because, I'm always going to love you. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit here while you pull me close to you? Or right now, do you know how fast my pulse is racing?" He could tell she was getting warm with drunkenness and took his hand way from her face slowly. He placed his hand on her wrist, as though he was attempting to measure her pulse.
"Wow. I think it's mostly from all that vodka." He laughed, but she didn't laugh with him this time. She pushed herself off the bar and jumped down from her barstool. She stumbled quickly, as though she forgot how high her heels were. Her high heels took her over to the jukebox and she began pressing the arrow keys looking for a song. She reached into her pocket for a dollar and put it in the machine. She made her selection and laughed to herself, then made her way back to him.
"I'm convinced I can make you fall in love with me." She said, pointedly. She stood in front of him, while his back was at the bar, waiting for her song to play.
"I almost wish you could." His voice was uneasy and he nervously scratched the back of his head.
"Oh come on! I'm not going to get all "Fatal Attraction" on you! I'm in heels for Christ sake, how crazy can I get." He could see how offended she was and immediately regretted his uneasiness. Her song started playing and a smile stretched across his face. "I was thinking more like "Say Anything." You'll have to settle for a drunk girl playing the song in the middle of an empty bar as opposed to the run of the mill 'outside your bedroom window' routine."
"You're amazing." He laughed and shook his head. He watched her jump back up on her barstool and was surprised she did without almost toppling over. Suddenly, the few patrons in the bar seemed to focus their attention on the young couple.