This Boy's Fire
It wasn't supposed to be like this, it was supposed to be a quick fling – something that'd come from a fun night out on a Friday night with Gwen. Now there she was drinking a bottle of vintage merlot wine in a Latin restaurant on the outskirts of the city and finding herself falling dangerously fast for a man she swore she had no feelings for.
The music suddenly took a sharp turn and the smooth upbeat Latin beats caused her to start tapping her foot unknowingly. Leaning back in her chair she breathed in the sent of summer in New York, her eyes closed she listened to the chatter of the patrons surrounding her.
When she opened them again, Flack was back at their table, his hand outstretched to hers.
"I don't dance." She protested as he pulled her up.
"Neither do I." He winked back.