Avey Tare at the bar Part 1

I tilt back my bottle of Michelob feeling the liquid slosh into my thirsty mouth. It’s half past midnight and already I’ve grown tired of the californian acid head scene. The truth was, I had my own batch of mescaline tea brewed up back at the apartment and was looking for someone to share it with. Nights alone were the toughest and I overtly scan the bar for anyone that catches my attention.

I look over to my right. There she is three seats away from me. She stares with wide eyes and a healthy smile that read “I’m your biggest fan”. I draw my fingers up in a quick wave and immediately return to my bottle. 

I can feel her watching me.

I look over again. Her smile has grown. In her mouth I can see a silver glow which I figured was a tounge ring and I felt an ache in my groin. I mouth the word “hi” out of awkwardness and take another gulp of my beer. When I look over again she is gone.

There is a tap on my shoulder.

"Hi, are you Davey um, Avey Tare? I love you."

She resembles a cat. A cute cat. Her eyes are paler in person. They remind me of mucus. Light green with specks of yellow.

"Yes I’m Avey Tare." I say. "Call me Davey. Nice to meet you."

She looks exotic. I want to ask her if she’s asian. Her eyes look that way.

I smile and she squeals.

"Oh. my. god! I love your work! I love your solo album, I love AnCo, I love your hair, and that sweater you have on, and-"

I am not listening to her. I am consistently eyeing her down. And I second guess if it’s the beer that’s making her attractive or is it just her.

No. It’s just her.

She was coy and cherub with tiny dimples and a delicate frame. Her skin looked rich and tan, soft honey brown tresses that reached along the small of her back, suptle breasts, and slight hips. Hips that I’d like to wrap my arms around. She talked a lot but that was okay. I like watching her pretty lips move. The way they curved into a smile that raised her cheekbones. How perfect and milky white her teeth were. How gentle her mouth looked. I want to stick myself in there.

"What’s your name?"

"Oh, I’m Nadija."

"Where are you from?" I ask.

"Lisbon"

"portugal? my buddy Noah, panda bear, lives there. you speak pourtegese?"

"yes" she giggles. "I speak french as well. I went to an all girls boarding school in paris when I was 13. Anyway…"

We converse rather rapidly. Spilling out subjects of culture, music, movies. The alcohol feeding out lines of secrets that would never be shared in a different setting. She touches my arm quite often and I get a whiff of her hair. It smells like coconuts and fruits. I wonder if she has a cat.

She does. 

She tells me that she smokes a lot of weed. She’s into pyschadelics as well. Her smile is turning me on. She’s giggling about nothing and her hand keeps slipping along the edge of my crotch. I want her. 

"so, what are you doing after this?" she whispers. "Gonna get fucked up?"

"why?"

"I don’t know… maybe I want to come with you."

"Have you ever tried mescaline before?"