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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Young Adult · #2177362
A Flash Fiction story about a guy in a night club admiring a girl.
The Girl

I walked into a club on a cruise ship, and there she was. She stood near the dance pole in her tight, baby-blue lace dress and four-inch heels. It was amazing she didn't fall flat on her face. Her platinum blond hair lay gracefully across her slender shoulders. The pulsing lights and sea of passing drunks obscured the details of her face.

Sitting by the bar, sipping down one frosty beer after another, I tried to work up the courage to walk over and say hello. I gulped down the last of my beer and ordered another. As soon as the bartender handed me the pint, I slithered to an empty table closer to the captivating woman. Taking small sips of my beer, I straightened my posture in case she glanced over.

The pop song playing in the background stopped, and a more upbeat hip-hop song replaced it. The woman danced away from the pole and moved in my direction before halting a few feet to my right. With her back to me, she spoke to an equally beautiful brunette with striking cerulean eyes.

My heart pounded in my ear as my memory raced back to my days in high school as a freckled, plump nerd sitting in the corner of the classroom. This was like a dream come true.

The brunette walked away, and the blond moseyed closer, flipping her hair and flashing a grand smile.

"Well, hello there!" she crooned, taking a seat across from me and planting her elbows on the table.

My legs trembled. "Hi."

"I noticed you looking at me."

My cheeks grew hot."Yeah...I mean no!" I screamed at myself silently. Why was I messing up my chance? "It's nice to meet you."

She brushed her hand along my arm, and I flinched.

"The nervous type." She winked and stood.


She came over, kissed me on the cheek. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a tube of black eyeliner. Tearing a napkin from the holster on my table, she wrote her name and number then handed it to me. I stared at it, dumbfounded for a moment. According to the curling smudge of letters, her name was Lisa.

"Text me when you're sober, okay?"

She meandered away. I took the napkin and stuffed it in the side pocket of my jeans. I didn’t know what I had done right, but I couldn't wait until I was back on dry land. I'd tell the guys about Lisa and how one day we would sail the ocean, relax on the beach, and drift off into the rays of the sun…

My alarm blared. I opened my eyes and back home in my bed. I sighed. It was the third dream about her this week. Maybe it was a sign that I needed a girlfriend.
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