Maybe it didn’t matter. All that he was sure of was that when she turned and looked at him he got a bit flustered and something akin to Alien Hand Syndrome invaded his body. His left hand, which he’d fully intended to rest on the bar, flapped outwards, knocking over her half-full pint of beer. It was a good thing she was quick and jumped back before any of it spilled on her. Not the best way to get a girl’s attention, especially not one as gorgeous as this girl. And now as they walked along Grassmarket in the early evening rain, he didn’t care how he’d done it, at least he’d met her. She wasn’t a tall girl—the top of her head came up to his chin – but she walked with the confidence of one. She didn’t take small childlike steps, she strode—and he liked that. Though her face wasn’t thin—to him, it was a perfectly-shaped oval—her cheekbones were sharp against the walnut hue of her skin. That she’d pulled her hair back in a tight, neat ponytail only emphasized her features, calling attention to the slight tilt of her caramel eyes and her cupid’s bow of a mouth.
