wip time
A woman about half of her height bumps into her and curses, panicking. “Shit.” She stumbles. The uneven floor kills her balance and a cool liquid soaks the end of Awa’s shirt.
The low light captures the cuban-link chain that glimmers around her neck and gleams just in time for Awa to catch it. The silver is just an accent to her shirt that’s tight around her chest. Awa follows the curvature of her breasts until she notices her manicured fingers curled around two plastic cups that are wider than they are tall. One of which is now empty. Soaking into her brand new shirt.
The projection of the woman’s voice is enough to catch a few wandering eyes, but when they notice the damp spot on the front of Awa’s shirt they all return to their mundane conversations. Sagging shoulders and titled heads are outlined by the lights on top of the bar. And the wear and tear of jackets on top of new dresses briefly catches her attention.
“I’m sorry.” Awa barely even feels the splash. Too struck by her to really speak.
“It’s okay,” Awa returns. Awa doesn’t even have to look up for her eyes to scale her face. Her makeup does more than suit her and her curled eyelashes, dark and heavy, are the cherry on top of an already beautiful face. One that’s now twitching nervously under Awa’s gaze.
Awa doesn’t mean to stare. She knows it's rude and she’s probably going to scare her off if she doesn’t stop. But there’s satisfaction welling within her when the woman fights to avoid her gaze.
“Flau’jae” the woman starts, looking Awa in the eyes now.
“I’m Flau’jae.” Her words are syrupy and slow. And her lips, covered in a sheen of lip gloss, catch all of Awa’s attention.
“I saw you from all the way over there,” Flau’jae twists to point to a table across from them where two women are sitting. They wave in unison when they notice Flau’jae pointing at them.
“They told me to-,” Flau’jae stops. She shakes her head, resets, and says “I bought you a drink.” She gestures with the cups she’s still grasping.“ But like an idiot, I just spilled it all over you.”
“Take mine, I'll get you a napkin and get out of your way.” She tries to laugh it off but Awa can see the way she shifts. Awa knows shame. The way it swallows your intentions and shrouds your features, and Flau’jae is showing all of the symptoms.
“Get me a napkin and then stay,” Awa smiles for the first time tonight and Flau’jae visibly perks up.
