I can’t say he isn’t attractive. He is. So much that I could look at him straight. But he looked mean, cold in that black hoodie, nursing his drink at the other end of the bar. I use my drink as an excuse to sneak a peek. A beautiful woman just took the seat next to him, made even more beautiful under the warm lights. She touches his arm and smiles, her breast almost pressed against him. I curve into myself, I wish I had that confidence. Those curves.
But the guy in the hoodie just sips his drink and says something to her. When he turns to her, I realize his neck is all inked and he has a lot of piercings. I can’t hear him, but from how rugged he looks, I imagine his voice is deep. Guttural. My toes curl in my sneakers. Then he turns back to his drink. She responds by picking up her drink and her purse and returning to her friend at a table.
Then he lifts his gaze and meets my eye. Shit. I was staring. The eye contact sends a bolt down my hips and I look away with a big gulp of my wine.