"Well, let's meet up for a drink downtown, I think you'll like this one spot."
She's got her glass of red wine, I got my vodka/horchata/vanilla sugar rim drink in hand and we get settled into the plush couch. In no time at all, the conversation has turned into full coverage of the that one thing we can't live with but can't live without...males.
The looming love of her life resides in Crenshaw. Mine, or my psuedo-would be luv, born and bred on the Westside. I'm wearing the leather jacket he got me last Christmas, nodding and smiling at her story about all the possibilities and differences with him. She wraps it up and starts asking about _____.
Not even two sentences into my story, she stops me. "Rio, isn't that _____? Did he really just walk in?" I turn right around to catch HIM walking in, sneakered feet heading to the dim lit bar. I immediately feel a little giddy, this would happen.
After all, he took me here first on a date. I begin trying to speed up the details on his and I progress to her because this place is small, he's going to notice me real soon. I decide to finally send him a text, get his head swiveling for me.
"Nice grey hoodie...always liked that one."