W.I.P., Shoot Me a Little Feedback. Thanks.

She started talking, flirting even, and she was totally out of my league, even on my most optimistic day. I played back with a slight guard. She picked up on it and asked if she was bothering me, nodding towards my book with her small head, a single neon-blue barrette like a tiny supernova in the night sky of her bobbed, jet-black hair.
“No, it’s just when someone as attractive as you starts talking to me, I sort of expect to wake up in a bathtub of ice in the morning with my liver missing.”
She squinted and looked sideways at me, then laughed a sincere laugh, putting her hand on my shoulder as if to say, ‘Oh, you crack my shit up. Let me touch your shoulder.'
I smiled and nodded my head in agreement, worried because she thought I was joking but I was completely serious. But she had a contagious laugh and I knew that the odds were pretty good that I have serious problems and there is no need to stop her to say, “No, I’m fucking serious here. Women that look like you…” and then nod at her as if to punctuate my original joke that wasn’t a joke with a dot dot dot and an interrobang.
So I laughed along, not too hard as to show that I was prone to cracking myself up, and we talked, and the night went on, and when the small hand started tickling the edges of the eleven ‘o’clock hour I gracefully thanked her for a good time then took my leave mentioning something about needing a full night’s sleep. And then the napkin was pushed across the small space between us, catching and buckling for a second in the moisture of a pint glass ring of condensation. She picked it up, leap-frogged over her water spot and mine, and placed it in front of me. I looked at her with a small smile, my liver screaming something about a phobia of motel room eviscerations. She shot me a shy smile, like she was hoping it wasn’t too much but also, better do it and regret it than not do it and regret it.
“Maybe you’ll give me a call this Friday… at 7… and we can meet up.”
Those dot dot dots were sincere, and adorable, and whether or not I would actually call her was a moot point right then and there. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world and as usual had no idea why I deserved this.