It had been a while since a date went so well. Like…a *long* while.
Meera, the goddess sitting across from me, rocking the *fuck* out of a buzz cut and sun dress, cracked open her purple-painted lips and smiled. She fiddled with the straw in her drink with skinny, ringed fingers.
“So?” she asked.
I blinked, realizing too late that I was totally lost in her. I must have been staring at her all the way through dinner, dessert, and the check. Honestly, it was hard not to. Meera had been more than a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stale dating life. She’d been ambrosia. Everything about her was soft and gentle and warm. The way she spoke with her spindly, tattooed arms. The way she batted her eyelashes when I complimented her. Even the way she sat — upright but not stiff. She welcomed every topic of conversation the way she probably cooed at every adorable puppy. She wasn’t innocent. Far from it. She’d been making ‘Fuck me’ eyes all night. But she felt…different. Intoxicating. Proud to be herself.
“What?” I asked, shaking my head from daydreams. “Sorry. You’re just…ugh. Perfect.”