Red Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,18

my neck and makes me squirm in my seat. “I think I’ve just realized that the darkness has a way of hiding one’s beauty.” The combination of his scent and his words makes my chest tight in a numbing kind of way. I try to breathe through the nerves, but it’s hard to do.

The silence between us is overwhelming, which is my fault since it’s my turn to say something. But I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting this. So of course I say the first thing that pops into my head. “Are you saying I’m ugly in the dark?”

He pulls away, likely seeing how frenzied I feel inside. He laughs, which means he’s definitely seeing it. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“If the darkness conceals so much, how did you recognize me in the daylight? Or do you just walk toward every crazy girl who waves you into a Rastafarian coffee shop?” I ask, somehow regaining my bravery.

“Your hair,” he says, matter-of-factly.

I wrap my hand around the length of my ponytail, giving him a questioning look. “My hair?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of exotic.” Or like an untamed lions mane of curls as Mom always says. Exotic has never been a word used to describe my hair. People have always complimented it—the thickness and wavy curls—telling me how jealous they are. I’ve never paid much attention.

But maybe I kind of want to right now.

He leans forward on his stool, resting his arms on the bar. “May I?” he asks, snagging my drink. “I sort of need to see what’s in this magic coffee you look so fond of.”

Never in my life have I willingly shared a straw with a stranger. But considering that I can’t get the vision of his lips out of my head right now, I think it’s okay to share. “Be my guest.”

His plump lips curl around the tip of the straw, and a tingling sensation drives through my lower stomach and down my legs. I shouldn’t be jealous of a straw. His eyebrows furrow and his cheeks clench as if he just sucked on a lemon. Pulling the straw from his mouth, he looks at me, giving me a what the hell? look. “Oh man…this stuff is disgusting.” He snatches a napkin from in front of me and presses it up against his mouth. “God, that’s bad.” He looks over my shoulder at the coffee guy and then back at me. “How about a real coffee? I know a place.”

“Sure.” A beautiful distraction from the real life I’m hiding from sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day.

Hayes is a total stranger, yet somehow he’s becoming my safe place.

Safe person.

We walk for a couple of blocks—we’ve passed at least three coffee shops so far. “So, it’s weird,” he says, breaking the silence. “I feel like I know you, but I also realize I actually know nothing about you at all. It’s almost like this whole flirting thing going on between us is strictly based on looks right now.” Is that what we’re doing—flirting? It’s been more him than me, but if I were better at flirting, I’d be saying things he’d want to hear, too.

“Well, this is awkward,” I snicker.

He smiles. Doesn’t he ever get nervous or embarrassed? He seems so confident and laid back. I’ve never had an issue with confidence; it’s always been a strong suit of mine…until recently. But yeah, this whole thing is purely based on looks, which might be what has me so flustered. “I had a hard time recognizing you at first,” I say.

“I get that a lot,” he responds.

“I don’t know, I mean, it might be because you’re kind of ugly, so…” I silently commend myself for being funny, a change from my usual, serious self. He twists his head, looking at me, shocked.

“Wow,” he chuckles. “Nice touch from the crazy girl who sits in a dark park alone at night.” He stops walking. “Anyone ever tell you you’re horrible at flirting?” His smile is now only a half smile, a crooked grin, which brings out his dimples.

“I’ve won some awards for it, actually.” I maintain my straight face, but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to. He’s so friggin’ cute. Spectacular, really.

“Oh man. I know what’s going on here,” he says, pausing for a minute and shaking his head. “You’re totally going to have an angry boyfriend chasing us down any minute here, aren’t you?”

I look over my shoulder wearily, for