"Another margarita for the young lady," I smile at you as I slide the drink in front of you, "and here's the check." I say, placing the piece of paper with the drink count and my phone number written on the side in front of you. I watch as you smile slightly, "Hope to see you soon." I wink at you before walking back behind the bar.

We've been sending each other signals all night. As soon as I saw you walk through the door with your friends, I knew I had the night won. My first move was to send you some free shots. Your friends laughed every time we exchanged, and you loved it. Then the glances—not just a quick glance, but long, lasting more than five seconds, ending in a smile. Then you made your move: you asked me my name, and to avoid any suspicion, you also asked for recommendations of pubs nearby.

Typical.

I really wish I'd gone one step further and asked you to come with me after closing time, but I also don't want you to think I'm just trying to profit from you, so I've left you my phone number and... you can do whatever you want with it. But please, call me.

I don't do things like this often. I don't usually like a girl enough to dare flirt with her all night and then give her my phone number. But you've hooked me in a way I can't quite define.