The first time she saw him, she knew. 

It was obvious, even from where he stood all the way across the room, that they would be perfect together.

She could imagine how well her hand would fit into his larger one.  How he would be the perfect height to rest his arm around her shoulders while they walked.  How comfortably she could tuck her head against his chest, beneath his chin, arms wound around his waist.

The feeling hit her suddenly and unexpectedly, and disappeared almost as quickly as it came.  Then, she was just a bartender behind a bar, ponytail falling out and spilled liquor all over her apron.

She almost forgotten she'd seen him completely until he came over for a refill.

"Sam Adams," he said, and she faltered for only a moment of watching his mouth move.  She took his empty glass and propped it against the tap smoothly, refusing to meet his eyes. 

When it was full, she slid it back across to him, some of the foam slipping down the glass sides.  His fingers brushed hers before she pulled away, and she unwittingly made eye contact. 

He looked at her Queen t-shirt, and smiled.

"I'm Brandon."

Her eyelashes seemed to stick together as she blinked in slow motion.  And she was a goner.