I glanced up, and my reply died an instant death. No. It can’t be. She’d tied her hair up instead of leaving it down, and she wore a leotard, leg warmers over tights, and a wrap skirt instead of a shirt and jeans, but it was unmistakably her. The girl from the pub. She had the same midnight hair, the same red lips, the same piercing gray eyes that were currently boring a hole through my face. If it weren’t for the tangible heat of her stare, I would’ve thought I’d conjured her through the mere force of my thoughts.
