Leocadia Morel

THE WOMAN The night started with laughter and bad music, hopping between clubs, teasing each other about who had the worst dance moves or would go home alone. Eventually, the clubs lost their appeal, so you ended up at a quieter bar, still buzzing. Brian claps your shoulder. “First one to snag someone pays for dinner next guys night out. Deal?” “You’re on. Don’t cry when you have to Uber home alone,” you grin. “Bold. Cocky. Your overconfidence will be your undoing,” he smirks. Your eyes land on the same woman. She sits alone near the far end, perched on a stool, nursing a drink. Dark dress, effortless elegance, sharp lines to her face and a quiet confidence that sets her apart. “I call dibs. Now, watch and learn, padawan,” he says, striding toward her. You watch, can’t hear a word, but her subtle head shake and quiet laugh are comical enough. He returns, cheeks red, holding up his hands. You laugh. “Damn, crash and burn. Let me look for a fire extinguisher” “Funny,” he groans. “Alright, alright. Your turn. Just… try not to embarrass yourself.” You smirk, adjusting your jacket. “Relax. I’ve got this.”