Fiction...

...titled... umm... "Mojito"

You guys asked for some fiction... here we go...

Alec stepped into the hotel bar. It was dimly lit, which he was happy about, because he was not in any mood for his few acquaintances to bug him about another drink or going to the weight room or some such other thing. He just wanted to relax a little before going to bed. Something that would clear his mind. He found a small table in the corner and munched on some peanuts.

He couldn't figure out what he was feeling about Her. Why did he feel so empty inside when he thought about the past 6 months? They were fulfilling months. No, they were AMAZING. SHE was amazing. But... there's still something wrong. Almost morally wrong. Maybe its the age difference. But... She's not really that young. Only about 5 years. She's pretty, no, She's beautiful. She's got a great personality, similar hobbies.

She was his type. Definitely. So, what was the problem? A waitress came over to find out what he wanted. A Guinness. A drink fit for a guy. To be drinking it alone is sad, sure. But its fitting. She's on the other side of the world, and nothing else will keep him company quite like a Guinness.

He thought about when She kissed him goodbye at the airport. He was a good actor. No one, not even Her, had noticed his cringe. For a moment Her hair had fallen in front of Her face, as She knelt to pick up his carry-on for him. She was always sweet like that, doing things for him. But he had used that moment to take a furtive glance around. Had anybody seen their kiss? Why did it matter?

He thought back to the first time they'd kissed. It was after his neice's christening. He took Her back to Her apartment; She invited him in. And... the light hit Her hair just right, the soft smile on Her face showed how happy She was. And it seemed like instinct just to take Her in his arms.

He could almost imagine She was there, sitting in front of him, with an orange summer dress and a mojito. That was Her favorite drink. It somehow fit Her personality. Or else it just complemented the color of Her dress. The entire image reminded him of summer. That was Her season, Her season to shine. She lifted Her glass to his, and he looked up into...

...eyes that were not Hers. His mind was abruptly drawn out of his daydream by the realization that there was a tipsy brunette sitting across from him. Her accent sounded French. She was really easy to talk to.

No, there's no reason he was sitting alone in a corner with a Guinness. No reason he's alone in a foreign hotel with no one beside him. No reason to tell the French girl that someone close to him didn't want to come along.

No reason, because he himself didn't know how he felt about Her. He didn't know why something inside him seemed to hold him down just when She was about to make him fall head over heels for Her all over again. He missed that falling feeling.

So he didn't decline when French Girl invited him to go for a stroll... to find a beer that didn't have hotel mark-ups. It was a quiet little pub. He enjoyed talking to her. He could even find himself a little bit off balance around her. Maybe that was the beer. He didn't even know until her drink arrived that it was another mojito. She said something in French that sounded cute, took the mint sprig out and crushed one leaf on the back of her wrist. She then crushed another mint leaf into her drink. It was something he'd seen Her do a hundred times before. The faint smell of mint reached his nose and he smiled at the familiarity. He liked French Girl.

On the walk back to the hotel, the rainclouds finally decided to do something, so the two of them ducked into a doorway to wait for the downpour to end. It was a quick shower, but it was long enough for him to realize how close they were standing. And how cold the rain had made things. French Girl was so similar to Her. He turned to look at her again, but she was standing closer than he expected and suddenly their lips met. He was surprised. But then he thought about Her back home. And he kissed French Girl deeper. He realized they were almost the same girl. The difference was French Girl was a stranger. And She was his best friend. And you shouldn't kiss your best friend. In that one quick kiss, so many realizations tumbled into his head that he didn't know what to do.

He pulled away. She'd had more to drink. She wanted to keep going. But he looked into her eyes and saw Hers weeping. He could never tell Her what he'd just done. He could never make Her hurt that badly. And what's more, they weren't right for each other. He'd have to let Her go anyway, even if She didn't know about French Girl.

Back at the hotel, they went their separate ways. The rain had soaked them, so they each went to change. But it was only a pretext. He didn't want to see her. He went back into the hotel bar and sat in a different corner with his whiskey, wondering how he could break it to Her. And why couldn't he have seen it before. No doubt She would wonder how he could have changed. Or maybe She'd seen it coming. That explains Her refusal to come with him on this trip. But still... hurting Her now was better than hurting Her more later. The longer he waited the more it would hurt Her when the time came. And the more it would hurt him, seeing Her in pain.

She'd be at the airport to pick him up. Maybe on the ride back. No, take Her out to dinner. After the jet lag wears off. No sense being exhausted and emotional at the same time. Lets just be friends, have some dinner. How stupid does that sound? What if he just didn't come back? Didn't explain himself at all. What if he was just gone? She'd have questions, sure. But she wouldn't have the answers that would hurt Her so much.

The waitress was asking him to leave. The entire hotel, apparently, had gone to bed. Suddenly, sleep seemed like the best idea ever. He could see Her there, and in sleep he could see Her and still be in love with Her.

He threw the mint on the desk and pushed the turned-down covers all the way to the end of the bed. If he wasn't going back, he'd have to get comfortable here. He closed his eyes, and tried to take Her pain away.