She’s overlooked
crucial data.
He’s on his
third beer and chugging it. A dribble escapes his mouth to reach his chin. He uses
his sleeve to wipe his mouth. His biceps make her gasp. He gives her a lopsided
grin, and brushes back a wave of glossy hair. He could model for a living and
never touch a greasy wrench again.
A friend said they’d
make a cute couple. But hers is a different world and he wouldn’t suit. For if
he fits there, it means she doesn’t.
She sips at her
wine. Takes a second look. Her knees feel weak.
