An Instant Connection (Insta-Spark)

What was his question?

“Oh, erm, I guess. She looked tired, and I know what it’s like to miss your b

us and simply want to get home.” I lifted one shoulder. “I was glad to help.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. He sat down a few feet away and pulled out his phone. Feeling strangely disappointed, I went back to digging for my earbuds, thinking I would have to clean out my purse on the weekend. I couldn’t find a thing in it.

“Maybe you need a smaller purse.”

I paused my digging, knowing I had been talking out loud again. Living alone, I did that a lot, although I tried to refrain from doing so out in public.

I glanced over at the man, startled at his close proximity.

Had he moved?

“I’ll take that under advisement,” I replied dismissively, then bent my head.

“I’d like to take you to dinner.”

I almost dropped my purse but managed to grab it before it fell from my lap.

“I beg your pardon?”

He chuckled. “You’re exceptionally polite. I like that. I said I would like to take you to dinner.”

“Um, thank you, but no.”

My response didn’t seem to faze him. He lifted one shoulder casually.

“All right.”

He leaned back, crossing his leg over his knee, and draped his arm along the back of the bench. He was near enough I could feel his warmth and smell his expensive cologne. Ocean breezes and citrus filled my nose. I liked it.

“Is it because you don’t know me?”

His words jolted me back to reality. “I’m sorry?”

“Why you won’t have dinner with me—because you don’t know me.”

“Yes, that’s part of it. It’s not advisable to walk off with strangers you meet at a bus stop.”

He nodded. “Good point.”

“You could be a stalker or a serial killer for all I know.”

“I could be. Or a mobster. They’re pretty scary. Trigger happy too from what I’ve seen.”

“Had lots of dealings with mobsters, have you?” I asked sarcastically.

He stared at me. “I watch TV,” he replied haughtily. “I’m aware of how they operate.”

My lips twitched, but I stayed silent.

I moved my hand around, locating my earbuds. “Finally,” I muttered. I slipped them on, plugging them into my phone. I began scrolling through my playlists when one earbud was pulled from my ear.

“Hey!” I gasped.

“I’m not,” he said firmly.