What happens in the dim bar…

At some point in the conversation I realize that he’s been flirting with intent. I look at this man across the table from me, too young and too beautiful, and I smile at him. And then it dawns on me that he’s been waiting for me to make the next move.

We’re sitting in a fashionable but semi-deserted hotel bar where I’ve been been entertaining him for the past few hours with the unfiltered words that tend to color my conversations. Really, he’s just been my attentive audience for most of it. Nice scenery to look at while I talk out loud.

The dull roar that swirled around us at the beginning has dimmed to a quiet murmur as fewer people remain. We’ve been camped out in the same place since the business day ended, nursing the same drink for long enough that the waiter stopped coming by to check up on us. We’re both mellow and relaxed.

There’s this moment… a moment of delight as I realize that he’s looking at me with that kind of genuine appreciation that so rarely makes an appearance these days. It’s friendly, but with heat and without pressure. It’s an invitation.

I am shallow enough that I wallow in that look for a long few minutes as I contemplate the possibility of actually giving him a sign, making a move. My mind flits through different scenarios, the pros and cons, in a single second. And the moment holds on, and our smiles remain, and our eyes are still locked, and we’re still silent now.

And then I remember to breathe.

{{Yes, dear reader, that’s all you get.}}

image source: sharonang / Pixabay

Author: Paloma Cruz

Find out more about Paloma Cruz through the About page. Connect with her on Twitter (www.twitter.com/palomacruz) and (Facebook).

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