Damn these heels.

I walked as quickly as I could, given the three-inch stilettos Presley forced onto my feet, mumbling under my breath as I went.

“I mean, seriously?  It’s not like this is the sort of job interview where you don’t know if you are going to end up with the position.  I mean, when your father already owns the company, chances of you getting the job you want once you graduate are really pretty good.  Why are you so nervous?”

Halfway there, I considered smacking myself for not calling a cab or an Uber or something.  The walk from my place to Dad’s office wasn’t really that far under normal circumstances, but contacting someone for a ride just hadn’t occurred to me in time.

“It’s only a short walk,” I muttered.  “It not like the subway is a better option.  I should have called a cab, but it was only a twenty-minute walk, and hailing a taxi usually took a half hour.”

I was babbling like an idiot, and some homeless guy with a pair of socks on his hands and a mangy dog curled up next to him looked at me like I was the crazy one.  I shut my mouth and continued on.

“Holy shit, she is fuckhawt.”

I didn’t even look over at the group of boys on the corner.   Every city seemed to have a group of such kids—tattoos, piercings everywhere, chain smoking and generally looking like they exist just to piss off their parents.  Usually they were on skateboards though this group seemed to prefer BMX bicycles.

Of course, the light changed right at that moment, and I was stuck standing next to them, waiting for the walk signal.  I refused to look over in their direction though I could still hear them talking and trying to get my attention.  I ignored them and stared straight ahead at the red hand denying me access to the other side of the road.  I wondered if there might be a proverbial chicken nearby so I could staple myself to it.

“Hey,” a soft voice said beside me.  I startled.  I hadn’t even heard him come up, but when I looked to my right, one of the boys was right next to me.

He was standing up on the bicycle with one wheel high up in the air, balancing on the pedals as easily as if he were standing on the ground.  He was wearing a faded pair of ripped jeans with one pant-leg completely missing, making the garment a half pair of shorts.  His shirt was also faded with the logo of some metal band on the front.

When I looked up at his face, I was surprised to see he was a little older than I had originally assumed.  I always figured groups of boys hanging out on the corner ranged from about fourteen to sixteen, but this one had to be out of high school.  He had a couple of days’ worth of stubble covering his cheeks and neck, long and unruly black hair tied up in a man-bun, and intense, bright green eyes.   His full bottom lip was adorned with a pair of thin silver hoops through the left side, and a matching hoop went through his eyebrow.   Three more hung from the lobe of his right ear.  There was some dark, swirling tattoo wrapping around his left arm and something more colorful just peeking out of the collar of his T-shirt, but I couldn’t make out the details of either design.   There was a thin, gold chain around his neck, the front of which was tucked into his shirt with the chain pulled tight at the front, the lump of a charm of some sort hiding underneath the fabric.

“Would you go to dinner with me?”

“Excuse me?”  There was no way I had heard him right.  I mean—guys with piercings and tattoos didn’t walk up to women wearing suits and heels to ask them out for dinner.

“See, you’re really, really pretty.” He shrugged, twisting his hips a little and making the bicycle spin in a full circle before facing me again.  “And my buddy CeeCee says if you’re pretty on the outside, you’re probably ugly on the inside.  I just want to see if he’s right.”

I stared unabashed at him.

“I don’t think he’s right,” the boy said, clarifying.  “I know a great place to eat, and it would be perfect for you.”

“Perfect for me?” I heard myself echo his words.

“I think you’d like to go someplace where you aren’t expected to wear those kinds of shoes.”

“What?”

“You don’t like wearing them,” he said, shrugging and swiveling the bike again.

“How do you know that?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

“The way you kept looking at them.  I was actually waiting for you to tell them to fuck off or something.”  He laughed.  “I mean, you look at them like you hate them, like maybe the heels impaled your dog on your birthday or something.”

I heard a chime and looked across at the “Don’t Walk” sign and realized I had just missed my opportunity to get across the street.

“Dammit!” I mumbled.  I turned back to him.  “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m really in a hurry, and I don’t have time for this right now.”

“Why are you in a hurry?”

“I have a job interview, and it starts in ten minutes,” I said, wondering why I was even telling him these things.  “And I am willing to admit these shoes aren’t helping me get there on time.”

“You want a ride?”

“What?”

“I’ll give you a ride,” he said.  “Then you wouldn’t be late, and your feet wouldn’t hurt.”

“You have a car?” I asked stupidly.  I knew he didn’t have a car around here.  There wasn’t even a parking garage within six blocks.

He laughed.

“On my bike, goofball.”  Half his mouth turned up in the most incredible smile I had ever seen in my life.  Granted, lots of people have nice smiles.  Lots of guys have those “panty dropping” looks that make girls want to throw their undergarments at them if they were up on a stage in front of a microphone.  Most popular actors have one of those looks, too, but I had never seen a smile quite like this one.

Aside from the luscious curling of half of his perfectly formed lips, his smile didn’t just light up his eyes, like any good genuine smile will do; it lit up his whole face.  He positively glowed as he tilted his head slightly to one side and looked at me with one eyebrow cocked.  I could have sworn the sun even peeked out from behind a cloud at that point and lit up his hair as well.

His tongue popped out of his mouth and fiddled with the rings embedded in his lip, and he glanced down at the sidewalk for a moment before looking back up at me.  The combined gestures gave him an odd combination of both cocky and shy all at the same time.  Can looks be ambiguous?

“There’s only one seat on the bike,” I said.

“You can have it.”  He leaned back and the bike dropped from its perpetual wheelie right next to my feet.  He continued to stand on a pair of pedals attached to the rear wheel.  “I don’t need the seat.”

I looked at the bike, then back to that incredible half smile, and then back to the bike again.

“Just get on,” he said softly, but the words were still very much a demand.  “I’ll make sure you get there on time.”

I had no idea what I was thinking, but suddenly I was sitting sidesaddle on a BMX bicycle, wearing a pencil skirt and spiked heels, flying down the sidewalk in the middle of the city.  The boy was alternating between rapidly rotating the functional pedals, standing on the pedals attached to the back wheel, and balancing on the handlebars with his legs stretched out behind us.  I couldn’t help but noticed the definition in his arm muscles as they tightened and flexed during that particular move.

He swerved around the pedestrians and hot dog stands as if he did this kind of thing every day, and he probably did.  I held tightly to the inside part of the handlebars and just prayed I wasn’t going to fall off.  I had to admit, he did get me to the Draganov Financial building with five minutes to spare.

“Thank you,” I said as he stopped the bike and lifted me off the seat with both hands while balancing the bike with the toe of one foot.

“My pleasure,” he responded.  “Will you have dinner with me now?”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said, stammering.

“Why not?” he asked, his eyes narrowing a little.   His hand went up to push a loose strand of hair out of his eyes but only ended up pulling more hair from the tie at the back of his head.  “Do you already have a date?”

“No, but…”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I…”

“You’re not wearing a ring.” He gestured towards my left hand with his head.

“I’m not married.  I just…”

“You are going to eat tonight, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, of course, but…”

“Why not, then?”

“I don’t even know you!” I finally blurted out.

“Well, I know that,” he said with another smile.  “The whole idea of going to dinner is for us to get to know each other.”

“But I’m going to be here for hours,” I said.  “I’m not even sure when I’ll be done.”

“I’ll wait for you,” he said.  He pointed to the ground beneath his feet.    “Right here.  I didn’t have any other plans today, so it’s no big deal at all.”

“I don’t even know your name,” I said.

“Ethan.  Now will you go to dinner with me?”

“Well, Ethan”—I sighed, finally giving in—“I’m Ashlyn.  And I guess if you really feel like waiting that long, I’ll look for you when I get out.  If you are still here, maybe we can go to dinner.”

“Sweet,” he said, the half-smile returning.  He maneuvered the bike behind him with one hand and stepped up closer to me.  His tongue darted out and twisted the hoops in a circle through his lip.  “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” I gasped.  “No!”

“Okay,” he said, still smiling.  “I’m gonna go get a couple things, but I’ll be back here in an hour.  I know just where to take you.”

I glanced at my phone.  Three minutes before two o’clock.

“I won’t be done until after six,” I said.

“That’s cool,” he responded, sitting on the seat of his bike and lighting a cigarette with a chrome-plated Zippo lighter.  “I’m gonna go grab something, but then I’ll be right back here.”

He pedaled off slowly without looking back, perfectly balanced on the bike—one hand holding the cigarette and the other tapping on his phone.

I shook my head and went into the building.