"I didn't expect anyone to actually text me."
"You wrote your number on the men's bathroom stall. What did you expect?"
Áurea Nikiforov Reyes always knew the story behind her parent's everlasting love. A simple text at three in the morning. Since sh...
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"This may be the stupidest thing I have ever done."
The smell of sharpie mixed with the nauseating smell of a men's bathroom wafted through the air; she scrunched her nose in distaste. In bright, cherry bomb red were the numbers (720)-555-XXXX. Right underneath, she had written text me with a cheeky winky face at the end. For Áurea, this was the stupidest, and drunkest, thing had ever done to date.
She got up from her crouched position on the ground and flattened out the wrinkles on her sage-green satin dress. She started to play with the ends of her blonde box braids⏤nervous habit she developed in highschool⏤relished in the thought of her beautiful work. Then the worst notion ever popped right into her head.
"Oh god, what if papa found out? I'm dead," she muttered out, finally back in the heart of the club, with her hands on her face, "Oh god! If papai found out, I'm double dead!"
The sound of chatter outside the bathroom entrance caused her to whip around and left as fast as she could. Leaving the cherry bomb permanent marker by the crime scene.
Running towards the entrance, in drunken haste, she shoved a stranger out of her way. A tall, fine-looking man with shaggy black hair that framed his face perfectly, in Áurea's opinion, and no one can prove her different. What had set Áurea into a daze was the tiny ponytail on the back of his head. She looked down and noticed she did the most cliche thing she could have ever done in her life. The highly attractive man had a not-so-attractive drink spilled all over the front of his shirt. The light blue button-up⏤that paired with his black slacks nicely⏤now had a dark wet stain.
"I am so sorry! I'll help you clean up and order you a new drink."
Áurea started frantically going through her clutch, looking for a napkin. It took her a moment before she realized she spoke English while in Japan.
She bowed before continuing her apologies, "I mean uh−Gomen nasai! Watashi wa, or was it atarashī?" Áurea stumbled over her words, attempting to use the scarce Japanese that she had. The mysterious man she happened to bump into had lightly chuckled while watching her from behind his bangs.
"It is alright, I understand a bit of English. Lucky for you, I studied in England in high school." He smiled down at her. She came up slightly higher than his shoulder. He tilted his head and found this fact, to some degree, charming.
"Don't worry about the shirt or my drink." He reassured the frantic woman by his words and his actions. He grabbed the Áurea's exposed arm softly.
Áurea tore her arm out of the man's grasp. No matter how kind he was, she did not like him touching her. She took a few steps back and reached down in her clutch, once again, searching for scrap paper. Áurea was lucky that day; she found scrap and a spare pen along as well. Hastily she scribbled a couple of numbers down and practically threw the paper at his chest. She held it there before getting annoyed, rolling her eyes at the man.
