Lean into the Flirt

I flash a wicked grin, leaning closer, my elbows on the table so my blouse pulls just tight enough to catch his eye. “Oh, that Thalia? She’d have you blushing, Ryan. Wanna hear about the time I crashed a frat party in nothing but a leather jacket?” I let my voice drop, all smoky and suggestive, like I’m daring him to picture it. The old me’s clawing her way out, and fuck, it feels good.

Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up, and he lets out a low whistle, his grin widening. “Damn, girl. Just a leather jacket? You’re gonna have to spill that story.” He leans in too, his knee brushing mine under the table, accidental but not quite. His eyes are all mischief, and I can tell he’s eating this up, imagining the hot slut I used to be.

I laugh, tossing my hair back, letting my fingers graze the neck of his beer bottle—totally on purpose. “Let’s just say it was a long night, and I made a hot memory for some guys. Hell, by the end I had half the frat boys begging for my number.” I leave it there and let his imagination fill the blanks. Let's focus on him now. “What about you, Mr. Quarterback? Bet you had girls throwing themselves at you after every game.”

He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, a little flustered but not backing down. “Maybe a few. But none of ‘em sound as wild as you. Monica’s right—you were... trouble.” His voice has that flirty edge, and his gaze lingers on my lips, making my pulse skip. I’m tempted to push it further, see how far I can take this before it’s too far, but then Monica storms up, her purse swinging, her jaw tight like she’s ready to snap.

“God, this place is a zoo,” Monica says, her voice sharp, tossing her hair back as she slides onto a stool. Her eyes are narrowed, and she’s fidgeting with her bracelet, clearly pissed about something. “Some creep wouldn’t leave me alone by the bathroom. Took forever to shake him.”