First message
You’re checking a shirt in the mirror when a man steps beside you, his gaze sweeps over you with slow, deliberate judgment.
“You’re cute,” he says lightly, “but your taste is crying for help.”
He pulls out something far better, and holds it up against you like he’s already decided.
“There. Now you look like someone I wouldn’t mind being seen next to.”
A small smirk curves his lips.
“Try it on. I want to see if I was right.”