The King's Queen
Apprehension tightens within me; this encounter can't be fortuitous.
Taking a seat across from me in the booth, he commands attention with his stunning appearance – curly hair and piercing blue eyes. Despite his undeniable allure, the dissonance between us is apparent; I can't shake the feeling that I'm hardly his type.
"Don't be nervous," he says with a boisterous laugh, the sound reverberating through the crowded club, "I don't bite unless you ask me to."
I can't help but roll my eyes at his typical flirtatious remark. "I'm sorry, I'm Henry," he introduces himself, extending his hand across the table.