"Hey babe. Can I buy you a drink?"
"No thanks." Brittany didn't know why this guy was offering to buy her a drink. She'd only come to this bar to clear her head.
"Playing hard to get I see. You're so beautiful, I'll let it pass."
"What are you talking about? I'm not doing anything."
He laughed. "Innocent girls are so hot."
"Would you shut your fuckboy mouth?" A new voice said. "She doesn't want to talk to your crusty ass. Leave her alone."
He raised his hands in defeat. "Okay, jeez. Chill out." He left the bar.
"I'm so sorry you had to deal with him," the voice, a Latina woman, said. "He comes in here every weekend harassing girls. I'm Santana, by the way."
"I'm Brittany. Thanks for helping me."
"No problem. Mind if I sit down next to you? Shutting down fuckboys is tiring work." Santana told Brittany about her job. She was a private investigator, which sounded really cool to Brittany.
"Like Sherlock Holmes?" Brittany asked.
Santana smiled. "Yeah, kind of. What do you do?"
"I work for this dance company, Rise. I just started, but it's really fun."
"You're a dancer? Would you mind showing me some of your moves on the dancefloor?"
"I'd like that." Brittany and Santana spent the next few hours dancing. Neither woman had ever had so much fun clubbing. At 3:30, they called it quits and Santana arranged for a taxi to pick them up.
"Is it okay if I ask for your number?" She asked. "I'd really like to see you again, Britt."
"Yeah." Brittany put her number in Santana's phone, the dancer emoji accompanying her name. When the taxi got to Santana's apartment, Brittany gave her a quick kiss good night.
"Text me."
"You can count on it."