Page 9 of Twisted Little Thing

"If you are certain that you're not going to see the other person again, why waste an opportunity to be someone else for a night?" He continues. "I have done it, and it has been done to me. It can make things interesting – but it only adds to the appeal of short-lived beauty. It may deny there ever being an opportunity for something more long-lasting to evolve."

I look at him, pondering.

"So, you're telling me that Evan is your real name," I say. "Based on what you're saying, this would mean that you intend to see me again after tonight – or at least that is what you want me to believe."

He smiles as I take a little pause before I continue: "Why should I believe you?"

He nods in understanding and reaches over to his jacket that is lying next to him.

"Because I can prove it," he says, producing his wallet. He extracts his ID card and holds it up to my face.

"Evan Beckhart," I read out loud.

He looks at me expectantly as he puts the card and his wallet away.

The waiter interrupts us for a moment when he brings my drink. It seems to be the same beverage that Evan is having and looks just as colorful as the name would suggest.

"Thank you," I say, both to Evan and the waiter.

"It's a soft cocktail with citrus fruit," Evan explains. "Low in alcohol, but it goes very well with the apple aroma of the shisha."

I raise my glass to him in a toast and thank him again before I take a sip.

"Uh, delicate," I comment. "I have never ordered something like this here."

"You should," he says. "You know, there are many things to drink other than beer."

"Not really, if you can't afford most of it," I object.

He ignores my remark and takes a puff of the shisha, granting us a moment of silence before he repeats his question.

"So, what should I call you?"

"I haven't decided yet," I reply blatantly.

He seems to like that answer. His smile widens. And it looks freaking handsome.

"So, Evan," I start. "If I remember correctly, you were right in the middle of sweeping me off my feet with your irresistibly charming words when we were standing outside of the club."

He chuckles and shakes his head like a little boy who got caught doing something silly.

"You promised me you would explain that mysterious, non-superficial beauty that you claim to see in me – and that has nothing to do with my gorgeous hair or my make-up."

"Yes, you remember correctly."

"Care to elaborate?" I ask. "I took you up on your invitation and followed you here, after all."

He smiles at me. And this time, it is a triumphant smile, the kind that I had anticipated seeing when I first entered the bar.

It doesn't bother me now, though. He is becoming more and more intriguing with every moment I spend with him.

"I cannot deny that your looks are appealing to me, young lady," he begins. "You are beautiful in a very pure and honest way. Even though you try to hide it under that mountain of dark make-up. But even that suits you."

He pauses then, casting me that weirdly intense look again.

I take another puff from the shisha that he has handed to me and beckon him to continue.

"But all of that would not have caught my attention if it wasn’t for your dancing," he finally says.

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