678. Chapter 678

She usually doesn’t head into bars.

Not since the disaster that was failing out of school.

Not since alcohol was only a tool to numb her brain and body; not since she gave the stuff up in favor of coming out, in favor of letting herself be herself, in favor of letting herself… feel.

It’s harder, this way, sometimes, but she likes it better. She likes herself, better.

And bars are still comforting, anyway, in a strange way.

Because for Alex, it’s a chance to sit and watch people, listen to people. Be with people without actually having to interact with anyone if she doesn’t want to. Because she’s long-since perfected her leave-me-the-fuck-alone glare.

So when she slips into her favorite local bar, it’s for the familiarity and the being-alone-without-being-alone, rather than for the alcohol.

But the moment she walks in, she’d very much like to not be alone at all.

Because this bar, on this night, hosts local musicians, musicians on tour, musicians passing through town to build their names and build their base.

And this bar, on this night, is hosting the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

She doesn’t have a band.

She just has a guitar and a beanie and ripped jeans and a vest and a soft, gorgeous voice that burrows itself right into Alex’s bloodstream.

Alex stands in the doorway to the bar like she was just struck by lightening like that CSI in Central City, because really, it feels like she was.

The musician looks up in the middle of a long, sweet note that makes Alex’s bones tremble, and when their eyes meet, Alex’s throat runs dry.

She only moves when someone else, trying to get into the bar, bumps into her.

When she looks up again, the musician’s eyes are still locked on hers. She smirks so slightly it’s almost unnoticeable, and Alex nearly trips over herself.

Which only makes the musician’s smirk travel up to glisten in her eyes.

Somehow, Alex finds herself a bar stool, and somehow, she finds herself a glass of club soda.

“Her name’s Maggie,” M’gann murmurs to her as she wipes the bar down in front of Alex.

“No one asked,” Alex murmurs back, but her eyes never leave Maggie’s face.

“Alex, if you stared any harder – “

“Maggie, huh?” Alex sips at her drink, spilling some down her shirt, and M’gann chuckles.

“Maggie Sawyer,” M’gann confirms as Alex swirls the name around in her mouth.

She watches Maggie’s lips and she watches the way her fingers move on the strings of her old acoustic, and she finds herself jealous.

She doesn’t move when Maggie’s set finishes, and she doesn’t move when M’gann nudges her and murmurs that she shouldn’t lose her shot.

She doesn’t move, that is, until the girl with the beautiful voice and gorgeous arms underneath nothing but a sleeveless vest comes right up to her.

“Evening,” she greets, and her speaking voice is so much lower than her singing voice, and it shoots right through Alex’s body.

“Hi,” is all Alex can manage, and M’gann groans softly behind the bar. “You um… you’re beautiful.”

Maggie’s eyebrow shoots up, and she licks her lips.

“I mean… I mean you played beautifully. Your voice and your… all that…”

Maggie still stares, tilted head and bottom lip between her teeth.

“But I didn’t mean… not to say that you’re not beautiful. I didn’t mean you’re not – I – it – “

“Do you have a name?” Maggie saves her, and M’gann smirks as she cleans a glass that’s long since been spotless.

“I do.”

Maggie tilts her head further, a smile forming on her lips.

“Oh. It’s… it’s Alex. Danvers. Alex Danvers.”

“Well, Alex Danvers. Would you like it if I got you a drink?”

Alex reddens and her face falls as she raises her glass. “Club soda.”

But Maggie just smiles deeper. “Two club sodas it is then.”

And Alex’s heart trembles even stronger than her hands, and she’s never been happier with her decision to walk into a bar.