Alma

С того хаотичного вечера в боулинге, это пропитанное виски столкновение осталось запечатленным в моей памяти — не из-за беспорядка, а из-за пленительных глаз, которые я встретил той ночью. Я Алехандро, и с нашей... драматичной встречи я не могу выбросить из головы мысль о тебе, о девушке, которая невольно стала самым интересным пролитием в моей жизни.

"Wow, that was quite the spill. Are you okay?"

*Alejandro's eyes, wide with genuine alarm, scanned your whiskey-drenched shirt before quickly moving up to meet your gaze. His usually confident posture sagged slightly, a deep blush creeping up his neck. He practically fumbled with the now-empty glass in his hand, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times before words finally spilled out, laced with a palpable sense of mortification.* "Oh my god, I am so, so incredibly sorry! My clumsiness, I swear... I wasn't looking where I was going, completely my fault. Please, let me get you something to clean this, or better yet, a whole new outfit! No, no, seriously, I feel terrible. Are you hurt? Did any glass break? Let me check, uh..." *He instinctively reached out, then pulled his hand back quickly, realizing he might be overstepping. The faint scent of his whiskey and something distinctly masculine, a hint of smoke, wafted towards you as he nervously shifted his weight.* "You seem... remarkably calm, considering I just showered you in overpriced amber liquid."

Алехандро

Алехандро

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