The bar was wide open. The massive entrance doors were pulled back and secured safely against the wall, so the place flowed seamlessly out onto the street. There was no security in sight, and given the early hour, there weren't many people yet. However, the sharp scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air; that captivating aroma drifted straight from the depths of the establishment. Inside, seated at tables and in upholstered booths, we could see only a few guests, talking quietly and sipping drinks.
On the left side, there was a small outdoor terrace with four tables—cheap, basic metal constructions. Looking at them, it immediately crossed my mind that my Aron would definitely have a royal feast on them. Luckily for us, at least one of them was free. Bran headed straight for it, and I followed.
Once we sat down, I flipped through the menu booklet lying on the table. The food options were pitifully limited—a few types of pizza, fries, and a basic hamburger. The alcohol menu was in much better shape.
"Are you sure you want to eat here of all places?" I couldn't help but ask. "There aren't enough people for a real party... and the food menu is honestly pathetic."
"Yeah, I am," Bran stated determinedly, dramatically sticking his nose in the air and taking a deep breath of the kitchen's aroma. "Can you smell that? Perfect, trust me. It'll be great here. There aren't many people now, but you'll see, they'll show up later."
"Alright... but it looks like there's no table service," I noted calmly after scanning our surroundings. There was only one bartender behind the counter, looking completely swamped already. No other waiter or kitchen help was anywhere in sight.
"Rock, paper, scissors?" Bran suggested with a hopeful smile, already raising a closed fist.
"No. You wanted to come here, so you get the honor of ordering for us," I smirked mockingly. "A draft beer and a number four pizza for me, please."
"Pff, fine," he huffed with a smile as he got up, the metal chair screeching unpleasantly against the tiled floor. He walked confidently toward the bar, joining a short line and waiting patiently. It didn't take long for his turn to come. In that time, I had to admit to myself that he had been right after all. The place was slowly but surely filling up. I noticed two small groups of women and a larger group of guys loudly chatting in one of the booths. People were coming in, and no one was leaving.
A moment later, Bran was walking back from the bar with a wide, triumphant grin. He was skillfully maneuvering two stacked glasses in his hands along with a large, generously filled pitcher of beer.
"I had to pay right away. They don't open tabs for people from outside Cerulean City... So the second round is on you!" he announced with a grin, immediately pouring the beer down the side of the glass with a practiced, smooth motion—perfectly timed so that a rich, thick head rose at the end.
"I don't know, maybe we should wait for the food first," I noted with a slight hesitation. "Drinking on an empty stomach..." But as soon as the words left my mouth, I was already subconsciously raising that nectar of the gods to my lips and eagerly taking a sip. It was perfect. I downed half the glass right then and there, stopping only to pace myself a little.
"Patrik..." Bran shook his head in disapproval, watching me with amusement. "First we toast, those are the basics," he ordered, raising his glass with a solemn face.
"Right, right," I nodded with a smirk. Looking him straight in the eye, we clinked our glasses, then firmly slammed them onto the table before taking another drink.
"So?" Bran asked after a moment of relaxed silence, wiping foam from his upper lip and leaning back in his chair. "What are the plans for tomorrow?"
"Hmm, nothing too crazy..." I pondered, continuing after a short pause: "First of all, I need to run over to the P.E.X. and sell Mankey and Exeggcute. Then I have to buy some small things, like grooming brushes for Houndoom and nutritional supplements for Machoke and Aron. And after that, probably just pure training and battles with local trainers. I really need to push myself hard."
"For training, we could head down to the sea," Bran suggested with a smile. But that smile actually belonged to a shorter blonde in a tight silver dress with erect nipples standing just a short distance away.
"Nice," I acknowledged appreciatively, nodding slightly in her direction. "Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"
"She definitely is," he smirked, but then shook his head. "I'm taken, so I can only look... But if you want, you can go over to her."
"Hmm... Honestly, I don't get how you survive a long-distance relationship. Aren't you worried some other guy is banging her back home?"
I had never really believed in long-distance relationships myself. But in that exact moment, Lindsay flashed through my mind. She was perfect, and I knew I could count on her one hundred percent. Back then on the road, I hadn't wanted her to suffer if I met an untimely end somewhere... If I had known then that she would die on that fucking Safari, I absolutely would have given us a shot and wouldn't have hesitated.
"Are you okay?" Bran's voice pulled me out of the sudden darkness of my own thoughts.
"Yeah, sorry..." I muttered, shaking my head to clear those thoughts. "What were you saying?"
"That I trust her. We've been together a really long time, and I was her first... And even though we're going through a bit of a rough patch right now, I think I'd feel pretty bad if I cheated on her here," Bran admitted honestly, chugging the rest of his beer in one gulp. There was still no sign of the pizza.
I nodded in understanding. I finished my own beer, which was almost empty, and grabbed the pitcher to pour us another round. I had to admit, though, that I definitely didn't have Bran's perfect pouring skills, and the head got a bit out of hand.
"And do you have any plans? I mean, besides the sea," I brought up, trying to chase away the last remnants of melancholy.
"Walk around town, explore a bit, and maybe check out a local show."
Just then, I caught the bartender waving at us from the counter out of the corner of my eye. He had two large, round plates sitting in front of him. I got up from the table and went to grab them.
On the way to the bar, I already had to push through the crowd a bit; the place had really filled up in the meantime, and the volume of the music had gone up. Modern pop was blasting from the speakers, but luckily it stayed at a reasonable level so people at the tables could at least hear each other over it.
I had to admit, my pizza looked great. A thick layer of several types of Miltank cheese, hard-boiled Pidgey eggs, homemade Tauros ham, finely sliced crunchy Bulbasaur stems, plus a generous dose of chili and green hot peppers. While my mouth watered instantly looking at my plate, the other one... was a pizza piled high with pineapple. Disgusted, I quickly looked away from it.
Holding the plates above my head, I began to skillfully navigate through the thickening crowd. Fortunately, thanks to my height, I towered over most of the crowd by a good head, if not two. As long as I wasn't banging my head against low ceilings, my build had great advantages in situations like this.
Without a word, I set the pineapple disaster down in front of Bran and slid back onto my metal chair.
"Thanks, and bon appétit!" Bran cheered enthusiastically, already eagerly pulling away the first hot, stringy slice.
"Enjoy your meal," I wished him. Fortunately for the peace at our table, he didn't notice the genuinely disgusted look I shot at the fruit baked into the cheese. I tore off a slice of my own portion and focused all my attention on my food instead.
I had to admit Bran was right about this too—the pizza was actually incredible. Perfectly baked on the bottom, yet ideally juicy in the middle. The crust was exactly as thin as it should be, and the spicy toppings made for a perfect, intense blend of flavors.
"Want to swap a slice?" Bran suggested after a few minutes of quiet, focused eating, nodding meaningfully toward my plate.
"Absolutely not!" I refused resolutely without a second's hesitation. "You don't share women, food, or cars!"
And definitely not when someone is offering you warm pineapple in return...
"Your loss... This pizza is seriously legendary, you'd love it," he tried to win me over with a sly grin, but it was a total failure.
I'd rather shoot myself in the knee, I thought with a smirk. I took the almost empty pitcher and evenly split the rest of the beer between us.
"Your turn," Bran announced with a smile, as if I had forgotten in the meantime.
"Sure. I'll finish this up and go get another pitcher," I nodded, diving into my last slice.
The rest of the evening went on at a pleasant, relaxed pace. We drank beer after beer until we caught the right buzz, checked out girls, and talked about whatever came to mind. Bran was incredibly funny; when he was looking at attractive women, he reminded me of a hungry Houndour during his first days.
The girl in the silver dress with no bra passed by us a few more times. Bran kept asking me in disbelief if I was blind, because according to him, she was practically throwing her tits in my face and locking eyes with me. Honestly, though, I hadn't noticed at all.
Around one in the morning, Bran had finally had enough. The combination of exhaustion from a demanding day, the alcohol, the heavy food (yuck, that pineapple), and the slowly dying atmosphere broke him, so he headed up to the room. I, however, decided to stay.
Since he couldn't pick up girls because of his relationship, but I was single, I started looking deeper into the bar for that blonde in the silver dress after he left. I couldn't see her anywhere anymore, though, so after searching for a bit, I gave up. Maybe she went home alone, or someone had already managed to take her back. I wouldn't even be surprised; she was exceptionally attractive—short, with a slender, athletic build, a tiny waist, and a wide ass, especially in a dress like that with no bra in a night club. If anything, I was surprised she had stuck around for so long.
I stood in the middle of the crowded venue for a while, scanning the crowd to see if I'd spot another woman worth approaching. Whenever I saw two friends standing together, that was exactly when I missed having a wingman like Bran. It's pretty tough to get a girl back to your room when they're out in a pair... But if there are three of them, the other two can easily entertain themselves without her.
Seeing no ideal situation or any woman who caught my eye at first glance, I slowly headed toward the exit.
Just as I reached the door, my eyes fell on someone who instantly caught my attention. She was sitting right next to the bar, off to the side in a narrow, upholstered booth meant for just two people. She was completely alone, slowly sipping on some drink with a bright pink straw.
A large, obviously heavy travel backpack sat by her feet, and unlike most of the women in the bar, she wasn't dressed provocatively. She wore an elegant red t-shirt with a modest neckline, dark jeans, and white sneakers. From my angle, I couldn't see her face clearly; I only caught her pitch-black hair and very pale skin.
At the very least, it'll make for an interesting conversation, I thought with a smirk, walking slowly straight toward her.
Just as I expected, she felt my gaze and immediately noticed I was walking straight to her. She had deep, pitch-black eyes, incredibly pale skin, and bold red lipstick on her full lips. She gave me a brief, slight smile, gracefully running her right hand through her dark hair.
"Hey. Where are you from?" I asked curiously, offering a practiced, relaxed smile.
Out of the corner of his eye, the bartender shot me a quick look but immediately went back to his work, pouring some hard liquor into a row of shot glasses.
"Hi," she replied, raising an amused eyebrow. "What makes you think I'm not from around here?"
"The huge travel bag at your feet was a bit of a giveaway," I waved my hand toward her backpack. "And besides... well, you don't look like a typical Kanto local," I observed with a smile.
"Oh? And what do I look like then?" she challenged with a spark in her eyes.
"Like someone from an entirely different region, obviously," I replied with a teasing smirk. After all, I didn't hand out compliments for free.
"Paldea," she shot back with the same confident smirk. "And how about introducing yourself first?"
"I'm Patrik. And you are?" I reached my hand out to her, which she accepted without hesitation.
"Sofia," she introduced herself.
We shook hands, but instead of letting go right away, I gently turned her palm in mine. With a mock-serious, highly investigative gaze, I stared at the lines of her hand, lightly running my thumb across her soft skin. Palms are sensitive and surprisingly erogenous zones, so it didn't surprise me when her hand shivered slightly for a second under my touch.
"See anything interesting?" Sofia broke the silence after a moment, her smile amused but a bit more intense now.
"Yes," I agreed with a completely straight face, though my lips were twitching with suppressed laughter.
"And?" she prompted impatiently, still smiling.
"I can't tell you that, because you still haven't made room for me to sit..." I gestured with my free hand toward the booth. She was sitting right in the middle of the seat, positioned so cleverly that I didn't have the slightest chance of joining her.
"Ah."
Instead of sliding deeper into the booth, she did something unexpected. She stepped completely out of it, stood right in front of me, and looked straight up into my face.
"You really are tall," she noted appreciatively, a smile playing on her lips. "Dark, tall, and handsome."
"And you're really short," I returned her teasing smirk. "Dark, short, and pretty."
Going by looks, she was a few years older than me, but I certainly had no intention of asking her age. She was highly attractive, and the age difference couldn't be more than three years—at least, that was my mental guess.
Without waiting for her response, I stepped into the booth and sat down. The space was incredibly tight, my knees pressing right against the edge of the bar, but a little discomfort was no issue for me.
Sofia immediately sat down next to me. We sat so close that our arms brushed against each other. But since I was huge and she looked like a tiny doll next to me, she was sticking out of the booth a bit. Taking advantage of the situation, I wrapped my left arm around her waist and pulled her tight against me.
She clearly didn't mind in the slightest. She just gave me another smile and snuggled even closer.
"Tell me about yourself," she whispered in my ear a moment later, her voice almost drowned out by the loud bar music.
"You first," I whispered back in the same intimate tone. I made sure to let my lips lightly brush against her earlobe, pausing there for a second. Seduction was just pure fun.
"What do you want to know?" she asked. She swallowed hard, looking deep into my eyes, and after a brief moment, her gaze subconsciously drifted to my lips.
"What do you do for work?" I threw out casually, while my left hand began to gently caress the underside of her forearm. She shivered slightly under my touch again.
"I help my brother with his business. And you?" she blurted out quickly, as if my touch was throwing her off-balance.
"Trainer," I replied with a smile, highly amused. "Haunter, introduce yourself."
In that exact second, Haunter emerged from my chest with a sharp, terrifying grin. He lunged straight at Sofia, who instinctively tried to pull back and shrieked. I held her firmly by the hip, though, so she couldn't escape. Haunter laughed in a low, throaty chuckle, incredibly pleased with how successfully he'd spooked her, and immediately slipped back into my shadow.
While Haunter's laugh was lost in the thumping bass, Sofia's sudden shriek was not. So it didn't surprise me at all when the bartender immediately spun around toward our booth.
"Everything okay, Sofia?" he asked caringly, shooting a frowning, warning glance at my left hand, which was still wrapped around her waist.
It was nice of him to make sure she was safe, so I didn't hold the stern look against him. Haunter was just a little bastard who loved causing chaos. Luckily, Sofia nodded quickly.
"Yes, everything is fine," she smiled at him calmly, even though just seconds ago she had nearly jumped out of her skin. "Thank you." She nodded to let him know everything was under control.
The bartender shot me one more suspicious look but eventually turned back to his work. He had a whole line of other people at the bar waiting to drink, pay, and have fun, so he didn't have time to play babysitter.
As soon as the bartender turned around, Sofia turned her entire body toward me. "My heart nearly jumped out of my chest!" she exhaled softly. She didn't look shocked or angry, though. A calm, relaxed smile played on her face, and her gaze slid back down to my lips. I intentionally moved my face a bit closer, curious to see if she would build up the courage to kiss me first. Her eyes kept shifting—from my eyes to my lips and back.
Seeing that she wasn't quite daring enough to make the first move, I took the initiative. I leaned in and pressed a short, firm kiss to her lips. Sofia returned it immediately. When I felt the soft touch of her tongue, I didn't waste any time; I deepened the kiss, our tongues meeting in a wild rhythm.
I smoothly slid my left hand from her back to her chest, slipping it directly under her shirt in a subtle, fluid movement. Her breasts were small but beautifully firm.
After a moment of intense kissing, I pulled away from her sweet lips. Sofia sighed in disappointment, slowly opening her eyes, which mirrored pure desire. But at this point, I wasn't in the mood to just make out in a crowded bar anymore—I wanted some real action.
"Why don't we get some privacy?" I whispered low in her ear, making a clear suggestion.
***
Author's note:
I really tried my best not to end this chapter on a cliffhanger... but I ended up blowing past my planned word count by about 700 words.
Fun fact: "Sofia" is actually a real person from Argentina. We still follow each other on Instagram, and she is married now, so I changed her name just to be safe.
This night does end on a good note, and we'll pick right back up in the next chapter... where you'll finally see why I still blame Bran for what he did. I'm pretty sure you're all going to agree with me, haha.
By the way, the bartender in that bar really did ask her if everything was okay in real life—even though, unfortunately, I didn't actually have a Haunter with me…
***
Step into the Restricted Section
The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.
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Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(15):
38. Shadows, Sparks, and the Bro Code – 18+
39. The Cost of Power
40. Of Iron and Fists
41. No Mercy
42. The Girl in the Pink Cap
43. The Price of Arrogance
44. Of Bro Codes and Psychic Radars
45. Where the Forest Meets the Sea
46. Sun, Sand, and Cerulean Waves
47. Not on the Menu
48. Blood in the Water
49. Beneath the Surface
50. Gearing Up
51. Borelli's Forge
52. Two Badges and a Persian
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