Playing (Inked Hearts 2)

She looks as miserable as I feel.

And as desperate to be somewhere else.

Perfect.

I move closer. She's curvy. Pretty. Dark hair in one of those asymmetrical cuts. Like Leighton's, but shorter. Blue eyes. Soft lips.

She looks smart. Serious. Like a suit.

But there's something else about her. The tight jeans, the leather jacket, the purple gem hanging between her tits.

Fuck, she has nice tits.

There goes my train of thought.

Good riddance.

I move next to her. Copy her stance.

She looks to me. Gives me a long once-over. It's slow. Deliberate.

I bring my glass to my lips. "Let me in on your secret. This is where the cool kids hang."

"What makes you think I'm a cool kid?" She taps her glass with her purple fingernail.

"I don't."

"You don't?"

"Not yet. Just want to make sure I'm in the right place."

She laughs. "Because you're cool?"

"You think otherwise?" I run a hand through my wavy hair. This is easy mode shit, but I'm not in the mood for a challenge tonight.

"I spend most of my time with PhD candidates. My cool scale is skewed."

"What are you studying?"

She stares back into my eyes, assessing something. She nods like she's sure. "Psychology. If you want a fighting chance don't make a dumb comment about it."

"A fighting chance?"

"At taking me home."

I laugh. "You have me figured out?"

She takes a long sip of her drink. "Just that."

"You don't like people making comments about you studying psychology but you guess their motivations."

"Are you suggesting there's a correlation?"

"It's possible."

Her lips curl into a smile. Her eyes fix on my chest. My forearms. My eyes. "And you…"

"And I…"