We were greeted by a cool, crisp night as we left the bar. Still feeling a bit too warm and dizzy to drive home quite yet, I suggested we take a walk around the neighborhood to clear our wine-clouded minds. I wrapped my arms around myself to hold my cardigan close, thankful I had grabbed it on my way to meet him- my sundress was providing little warmth now that the sun had gone down.
“You cold?” he asked, resting an arm around my shoulders. Even if I hadn’t been, I would have been delighted at the touch. I spent all night trying my hardest to flirt with him- lingering eye contact, resting my hand on his from across the table, playing with my hair too much, even going as far as too lean over the table far enough for my cleavage to be almost pushed out the top of my dress. At first I thought he was just shy but as the night went on I began to fear he just wasn’t interested. Maybe he still saw me the same way he did while we were growing up together.