SUNSHINE BLASTS FROM THE SKY, desperate to make up for running from the rain yesterday. I hurry into the crowded coffee shop. Sweat beads on my temple. My blazer sticks to my skin.
The bell above the door jangles loudly. Curious eyes dart to me.
A surveying glance. A quick sweep.
Most customers look away, eyes dropping back to their phones or their laptops. But a few stares linger on my face. Women giggle behind their hands. Red and pink lips stretch over pale faces and eyes that glitter with attraction.
I've learned a lot about women since college. Growing up, I thought they preferred guys with swagger. Guys with the biggest house. The fattest checks. The loudest in the room.
But that's not always the case. I've seen women go crazy over mature men who barely open their mouths. Men who don't feel the need to drop names. Who don't flash their luxury brands because the clothes are lucky to be on them and not the other way around.
