I’m still—completely objectively and not at all lustfully—marveling at the stranger’s hotness when he plants his elbows on the table. Dark, curly hair falling over his forehead as he leans towards me, eyes the color of honey scanning me slowly, the smirking tilt to full lips screaming trouble. When he speaks in a low, raspy voice, his words are slightly slurred, a tell-tale sign he’s been here way longer than I have. “Are you even old enough to be here?”
