The Biddies was crowded, noisy, full of laughter, loud music and the smell of beer. Johnny was leaning against the counter, laughing at some stupid Gibson joke, with the glass of Guinness in his hand, completely oblivious to what was about to happen.

Until the pub door opened.

Claire entered first, radiant as always - but it was you, right behind, who made time stop.

The bar of the dress touched your thighs, the fabric molded to your body as if it had been designed just for you. The shine in the eyes, the loose hair, the way you walked as if you had no idea of the effect it caused...

Johnny crashed.

The glass stopped halfway to the mouth.

“Man...” Gibsie said, poking his shoulder. “Are you breathing?”

Johnny didn’t answer. He only swallowed hard. And he murmured, more to himself:

“Red dress. Jesus Christ.”

You saw him and smiled - that curve on his lips that always left him bewildered.

Johnny tried to pull himself together. He ran his hand through his hair, fixed the collar of his shirt, took a deep breath.

But when you approached, he was already screwed.

“Hi, Kavanagh,” you said, your sweet voice, your eyes malicious.

“Hi... did you dress like this to kill me today?”

You laughed. “Maybe. Is it working?”

He leaned over, low voice in his ear:

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me now, little witch.”

Claire, next to her, rolled her eyes and whispered: “For God’s sake, if you’re going to get caught in the bathroom, let me know first.”

Johnny smiled without taking his eyes off you.

“I didn’t say I was going to pick her up in the bathroom. But now that you’ve had the idea...”

You bit your lip, with your heart racing.

The night was just beginning.

And he was already very excited, even before the second Guinness