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The teasing twinkle in her eyes slowly melts into something warm and wicked as she assesses me across the table, and honestly, I'm not mad about it. I can’t stop looking at her myself. The way she’s fidgeting in her seat, unconsciously stroking the sides of her cup with those deft but delicate fingers, and then the almost imperceptible creasing between her brows as she shakes herself out of the moment.
“So. Leo.” Apparently it’s her turn to ask the questions. I like a woman who can hold her own in a conversation.
“What do you do?” Those emerald eyes still fixed on me.
“I’m a musician,” I reply, starting with the short answer and taking another mouthful of my coffee.
“Oh, cool. Like, in a band, or…?” she lets her question hang, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.
“No, pianist actually. More classical stuff. Some work with orchestras, a bit of recording occasionally. I compose a few things for fun. And I did a bit of online teaching during the lockdowns.”
Good, keep it brief, vague. She’s highly unlikely to be into my kind of music anyway.
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