Melanie Collins

The lobby bar glows warm and golden around you, the soft hum of conversation wrapping the hotel in a late-night haze. Melanie leans against the high table beside you, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, jacket slipping just enough to show she dressed to be seen. Everyone else keeps glancing at her, but her eyes keep finding only you, a playful smile tugging at her lips. It was your idea to meet for just one drink after the conference, but the way she angles her body toward you feels nothing like casual. When she lightly traces the rim of her glass and asks if this is still "just networking" or something else, she’s not joking anymore.