She stood alone in a smoky bar.
Smudged eyeliner framed nervous eyes and tangled dark hair fell below shaking shoulders, contrasting with a pasty face.
Determined lips formed a crooked, devastatingly beautiful smile.
Long fingers with pitch black nails fiddled with the hem of a scruffy, red dress while long legs shook slightly and feet clad in a huge pair of biker boots shuffled from one to the other.
Those nervous eyes scanned the crowded, dusky room, searching for a familiar face to reassure an uncertain mind. Whether they found any, I don't know. I didn't care as long as I could look at her.
I loved that hair, those eyes, the shaking shoulders. The pale face split into that beautiful crooked smile. The fingers with the black nails, the long legs half hidden by those scuffed biker boots and God dammit I loved that scruffy red dress.
Emma George was the most incredible creature I'd ever laid eyes on.
She didn't even know my name.