I sat in the corner of the hotel bar and ordered a beer. I considered something a little stronger but decided against it. I wanted a clear head.
I looked past the bartender into the mirrored wall. I adjusted the collar of my shirt a little and checked the cuffs. I was wearing dress shoes and formal trousers with a dark shirt and jacket. My nicest belt, a thick, buckled number, was carefully positioned to split up the ensemble. The only informal thing was my stubble, which I'd let grow out a little. I didn't normally dress up quite this much, but this was not a normal drink. And besides, I knew what she liked.
I sent her a message to let her know I was here and ordered a red wine. Whilst I waited I looked around at my fellow clientele. A group of businessmen in the far corner were gradually getting louder. They seemed to be celebrating; perhaps they'd had a meeting here earlier. A family was sat having dinner in the middle of the room. The parents looked tired and I thought I could hear American accents; probably a holiday. A pretty red-head in a green dress sat on the other side of the bar, occasionally checking her phone and stirring her drink. She was difficult to read, but I hoped she was okay.
My phone buzzed. She was on her way down. I took a deeper swig from my bottle and tried to distract myself a little by attempting to work out a little more about the red-head, but my eyes kept glancing towards the door.
I took my phone out of my pocket. Two minutes since she said she was leaving. I looked back towards the red-head, she was definitely waiting for someone. Four minutes. A lot of hotels have busy, slow lifts, I told myself. Six minutes. Maybe she said she was leaving whilst still getting ready...
Suddenly she appeared, striding confidently through the arched doorway. I'd already told her where I was so she made a beeline to my corner. She was wearing a tight black dress that hugged the curves of her hourglass figure. Her dark hair had been carefully styled and her lips were imbued with a deep, dark red. I smiled as I remembered a message she'd sent me once, and took a quiet pleasure in noticing the loud businessmen had collectively fallen silent as she passed.
I stood up when she got close and opened my arms, welcoming her with a kiss on each cheek. I held her a little tighter with my right hand and squeezed her shoulder as I pulled away, and noticed her left had wrapped around my bicep and gripped me back.
"It's so nice to meet you, Rae," I smiled. "You look phenomenal."
"Likewise," she replied, blushing slightly. Her accent stood out immediately in the London bar, as did her glowing, tanned skin. She seemed to radiate a warmth that was too often missing in the cold, pale, British winter.
"So how was your flight over?" I asked.
"Oh you know..." she began. Exchanging pleasantries like this was a little odd, because I did literally know. We already knew so much about each other, far more than was necessary for 'polite' conversation, so chatting like this was slightly surreal. We both seemed to realise it though, giggling occasionally as we asked questions we already knew every answer to.
After a few minutes I was surprised to realise she already felt familiar, like a good friend you haven't seen in a while - which technically, I supposed, was true - however one thing I couldn't get used to was her eyes. Those big, beautiful, brown eyes I'd seen in so many messages and pictures. Every time I looked into them I couldn't help but think of some of our other conversations. I felt my belt tighten a little and I smiled. 'Maybe the warmth I was sensing was something else,' I thought.
