“Si girò a guardarla: Lydia aveva lo sguardo fisso sul suo cellulare e sembrava piuttosto concentrata, tanto da non notare affatto i suoi occhi puntati su di lei. Jon studiò il suo abbigliamento, alla ricerca di indizi: in fondo, le donne sceglievano sempre i vestiti in base all’occasione, no? Era rincuorato dal fatto che non indossasse nulla di eccessivo o particolarmente elegante; anzi, era piuttosto semplice, con quella morbida maglietta a righe bianche e nere ed i pantaloncini a vita alta. I lunghi capelli erano raccolti in una treccia che scendeva lungo la spalla destra. Beh, per lo meno poteva stare tranquillo che non intendeva portarlo in qualche luogo di lusso, dove le buone maniere e il galateo venivano prima di tutto – non era proprio un posto adatto a lui e lei lo sapeva bene.”
(tratto dal capitolo 40: He’s So Bad But He Does It So Well” - Anything but Ordinary)
He sees her sitting at a bar somewhere in Northern California, not nearly old enough to be perched on the stool and flirting with the bartender for free drinks. Dean watches her for a while, the flash of her pretty green eyes and man-eater smile as she shuts down guy after guy with ease and no hurt feelings. Her eyes flicker to him and away again once or twice. But he knows she's noticed him noticing her.
"Just making sure you don't get in over your head," Dean says with a grin, enjoying the irritated look she throws at him. It reminds him a little of Cas when he's had enough of Dean's bullshit. "But you've been handling yourself pretty well all night." Her chin tucks up high with pride at that and it makes his grin widen. Oh, she's a firecracker all right.
"Good observation," she says with a soft, steely smile. "It's not because my ass looks great in this dress?"
"I'd be a liar if I said that wasn't part of it," Dean shrugs, not bothering to hide his smile. "And I try not to lie to the girls who look like they could kick my ass." She looks him up and down for a moment, assessing his demeanor and whether he's making fun of her or not before taking her drink - something fruity with a cherry and an umbrella - and sitting across from him in his booth.
"You're buying my next drink," she says, almost like a threat. He gives her his cockiest smile.
"In exchange for a name," he replies, waiting for the inevitable. She's piqued his interest, but he's pretty sure he's got her attention, too.
"Lydia," she says without pause, lips pressing over the rim of her class and sipping the dregs of her drink. "And I think I'd like to try a martini next."
"Deal," Dean grins, fingers twitching at the bartender. With Lydia, he's sure tonight is about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.
