She asked me why we’re afraid of the unfamiliar and why we have urges. I said instinct. She called bullshit.
I watched her finish her drink and shiver a little. What was left of the ice cubes in her glass clinked together as she set it on the table. I didn't say anything, I just moved closer.
She told me about studying in London and about how she loves kids and about the time she broke her ankle at the beach. I asked her if she wanted another drink. She asked me for my jacket.
I could feel her watching my back as I stood at the bar. She made me nervous.
I liked it.
Our eyes locked as I made my way back to the table. I wanted her to feel nervous, too. But she stared back coolly.
Damn. She was fascinating.
Her fingertips grazed mine as I handed her the glass. She laughed and told me I have a funny walk. I told her I never thought about it before.
We toasted to London and the unfamiliar before we downed them. Blood rushed to our faces, then other places. And this time, she moved closer to me.
There’s that instinct I told her about.