Illicit ✔

four

♫ I get so lost inside your eyes
Would you believe it? ♪
(Harry Styles—Adore You)

Thirsty Thursdays usually drew the life out of Coralie. The collegiates and half-naked girls and old perverts sipping from fish bowls in dark corners usually exasperated her beyond belief and drained all her energy.

But that night, she adopted an attitude the likes of which no one had seen in a long time. She was bubbly, borderline happy; patrons noticed and left her considerable tips. Roger pointed out that she was almost too chipper considering it was her least favorite evening of the week.

She ignored his jabs, ignored the fist-pumping morons who danced up on chicks screaming "this is my favorite song!", ignored the boys requesting melodies she couldn't stand.

Tomorrow, she had a date.

The next morning, though her scalp seared in pain, the night's tunes still thump-thumping inside, she rose with a grin. She showered with a grin. She chugged three cups of coffee and scarfed down a quick breakfast and wrote a handful of songs—with a grin.

At noon, her stomach started churning. She changed her top once, twice, three times, before Delilah marched out of her room like a hot zombie in a satin negligee and forced her to put the first one on. "That's what we chose, shut up and stick to it!" She then crawled to her bed and slammed the door with her foot, muttering something in Filipino.

At one, Coralie eyeballed the wine bottles she'd bought a few days prior, and groaned at the realization that it wouldn't be appropriate to day-drink. Especially when she had to work that night, and had already made the mistake of breaking her rules the day before.

By one-thirty, she'd paced so much her footprints indented into the carpet, her mouth was dry, and she was certain her subtle make-up to enhance her eyes had melted. She glared at her phone, waiting, waiting, waiting—

At last, it rang. "Okay, okay," she said, swiping her hair to one side, puckering her lips, and accepting the call. Once her face popped up on the screen, she hurried to flip her hair the other way, unhappy with how it had parted. She noticed a tiny speck of mascara above her sheen eye-shadow and dabbed at it—

His face appeared. His lips were in a straight line, at first. But the instant he saw her, the instant their gazes connected, those lips tugged apart into a huge, boyish smile.

"Cora." He'd been slouching, she could tell; but he perked up and puffed out his chest as he fiddled with the hem of his white t-shirt. "Wow."

Wow? Wow, what?

She'd viewed countless pictures of him over the years, all over social media. His vacations with his family, his work outings, his gatherings with old friends. She'd seen him in casual wear, walking around London, or wearing his fancy suits while posing in front of luxury cars, or exposing his topless, tantalizing torso while lying on the beach or working out in his home gym.