Faleena Hopkins
2015
Running back to retrieve their forgotten purses from the booth, Michelle wondered, Good Lord, why are birthdays always so hard? Her elbows stuck out as she fought to tie her hair into place, and she knocked into people along the way, distracted and trying to get to their bags before they got stolen. “Excuse me!” On seeing the booth still empty, she exclaimed, “Oh, thank God!” In a hurry, she climbed onto the red leather cushion on all fours, her mind still on men, not wanting the distraction of them, and on her drunken friend who was probably surrounded by them this very minute. In her haste, up went the hem of her very tight, little black dress. She yelped and straightened up like a shot, tugging the skin tight fabric to a safer location as she peeked behind her to see if anyone saw. Eyes of the palest green flashed upward and locked on her mortified face. Frozen, kneeling on the leather seat, her bun askew on her head, she stared back at a man who was without a doubt the most handsome she’d ever seen. He had thick, dark, wavy hair, a square jaw and sexy lips parted in surprise. He wore an expensive suit, complete with tie, and his hands rested casually in his slack’s pockets. From the darkening look on his features, he’d seen the crotch of her lacy pink panties and hadn’t minded at all. Michelle blinked herself back to focus. She glanced around, grabbed the purses from the shadows and caught sight of her fucked-up hair in the reflection of the mirrored tabletop. Her thunderstruck brown eyes widened and she mumbled, “Great. I look like a spaz,” as she pulled down the ridiculous bun and let her hair go free. Climbing out of the booth rather gracefully despite herself, she kept her eyes on the floor, but could not help casting a glance to her left to see if he was watching. He was. They locked in a visual tug-of-war until…SPLASH. “Dammit! Watch where you’re going!” Michelle cried, “Sorry!” wiping off the cold, clear, olive-smelling liquid from the girl’s red blouse w
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