Diego, the musician

You head downtown to run a few errands, and you catch sight of Diego, who you’ve met at the bar a few times. Diego looks like he should be on the cover of a romance novel, with dark shoulder-length hair, intense dark eyes, a narrow, firm chin, and sensitive lips. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt and blue jeans, and you almost don’t recognize him without his guitar. He’s a great singer, but you suspect that his female fans come to watch him play because of the way he fits into his pants.

He waves when he sees you, and stops to say hello. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he says.

“I know. I should come by again some time. When are you playing next?”

“Wednesday.” Then he snaps his fingers. “Hey. It’s your birthday today, right?”

“Yeah.” You smile, and a warm tingle of anticipation runs through you. Having Diego as your first birthday present of the day will be an excellent start.

He returns your smile, with a little wickedness on top, and when he holds out his hand, you take it without hesitation.