He knocks my hood and hat off in one quick move, and my ponytail falls down my back in a thick wave of black.
“What’s your game?” He’s still too close for my comfort, having one muscular arm braced on the wall, blocking my exit.
“I could ask you the same thing?” I bend down, picking up my hat to cover my nervousness. That I’d so misread him is messing with me. My intuition is a highly-honed thing, and that I’m so off about what type of mark he is, shakes me.
He leans even closer, and I flatten myself against the wall. His eyes narrow into slits of…I guess brown, but brown seems to mundane of a description. They’re richer, smoother, and against his caramel skin…it’s unnerving. And I’ll admit, in a different setting, some people might consider him attractive.
Not me.
“Get out of here,”
