The Hawk

He walked out of the unlabeled Scott Street warehouse venue, leaving behind his group of friends, music that he deemed to be fairly basic, a crowd that felt more suburban than the Bushwick scene he had expected, and a space that felt a bit cramped due to it doubling as an indoor skatepark. That mean that when you wanted to move around to get a drink or go to the bathroom, you not only had to navigate crowds, but also a floor that sloped upwards on either side, with a drop off half-way down the space.

He was a bit bored, and ready to call it a night. As he stepped out onto the street, he surveyed the people who were scattered around. Many were smoking cigarettes or joints, some were in line to get in, and one appeared to be waiting for a ride. 

She was standing at the edge of the sidewalk. He immediately noticed a few things about her. She was wearing a fitted navy coat with a fur trim. Her shoulder-length brown hair fell in waves about. Her stance in some ways spoke of confidence, but the slight slump in her shoulders also signaled she was perhaps a bit self protective. Her body swayed slightly to the music that faintly enumerated from the building he had just left, suggesting she was a bit tipsy, but yet she seemed to be in control at the same time. 

He decided to approach, and moved to the edge of the sidewalk next to her in order to catch a closer look at her face. She was generally pretty - well yes, pretty but mainly sexy in a way he couldn’t write explain. There was something about her. In a split second, he decided it would be fun to employ his usual social experiment when it came to approaching women, why not, the night had been less than fulfilling after all. And if he was bound for bed, he might as well end the night on a more interesting note.

“Hi, how are you?” He said with a smile, cocking his head and giving her a generous smile in order for her to see his full plethora of physical qualities. She turned and gave him a quick look, and smiled easily, almost dismissively.

“I’m good, hi,” she then turned her attention back to her phone.

His interest was somehow peaked further, the idea of a chase lingering in the back of his mind. Had she given him a gushing smile, or been a little drunker, or seemed a little needier, he wouldn’t have disengaged. 

Instead, he said, “What are you up to?”

“I’m bored with this music and headed to the next spot,” she replied, still disengaged but seemingly deciding to look at him a bit more. 

He took it in - a woman standing on the street, smoking a cigarette at 2am on her own, who was going to keep going. It wasn’t as if it was unique. The only thing potentially unique about it was her aura, and the fact that she was alone. In a city like New York, a woman choosing to be alone hopping around Bushwick in the middle of the night was… well.. it was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He decided that it was necessary to somehow stand out to her in that moment, to not be just another guy chatting her up as her uber sped towards her.

“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, you can let me know. I have three sisters, so I get it.” He said next. 

“You are good,” she replied a bit dismissively. As if he needed to give her permission to tell him to fuck off. Clearly he was attempting some gentleman move. 

At the same time, his obvious attempt to be disarming compelled her to give him a closer look. She thought, who is this person who is trying so hard to speak with me? He is probably a narcissist. No matter, my car is a couple minutes away.

They chatted for a few minutes about how the venue was disappointing. Maybe they talked about other subjects but her mind was a bit blurry and all she really remembered was him offering to give her his number.

“Oh if you want to stay in touch you can have my number,” she said, quickly typing it in as the driver pulled up. She gave him a wave and sauntered towards the car.