Your smile said you knew how to do things, and the girl with the Crate & Barrel bag liked that, and so she smiled back at you. You kept swinging around the pole on the Brooklyn-bound R train and glaring at her. She was naturally bronze and her jacket was gold, and the way her painted lips parted made it look like she knew things, too. In between you kept looking at the transit map, but it seemed like you knew where you were going.
You stared at me and S. and asked if we had a pen and we both laughed because no, we didn’t, but we usually did. But Vanessa had a pen - a purple highlighter (or was it lipstick she used to write her number?) - and she used her C&B receipt as paper.
She handed it to you at the Barclays stop and you unzipped your eyes slightly and snuck the receipt into the pocket of your too-big grey Levi’s. You laughed a laugh that betrayed the way you smiled, and when Vanessa was gone or a blur in the unwashed windows, you pulled out your plastic Nokia and typed her number in it, and then who knows what happened. Your red leather belt may have been involved.