She takes one step towards the black bmw and pulls the handle to find a red leather interior. “Perfect,” she thinks. As she sits down, the car is filled with the faint smell of Chance and weed. A song plays on, the bass prominent and strong, and she nods her head to the beat and smiles at the fact she’s having drinks on a wednesday night, something she hasn’t done lately. Not at all.
Tonight she feels wild and alive, as if the world has nothing but surprises. She flashes her most perfect half smile and starts telling him stories she hasn’t told anyone in a while.
She’s been as lonely as she is beautiful.
And that’s always dangerous.