A Night in a Year: 33. Origin

[jacquelineb]

A flicker of triumph runs through his eyes – he made her laugh, of course he’d be pleased – before it shifts back to focusing interest on her.

He puts his hand out. “I’m Jeroen.”

Tall, broad, blond, and with that name and accent. Dutch, she decides. As she puts her hand in his, feels it almost get lost in his grip. She gives her name, and he repeats it, dark blue eyes not leaving hers.

Over his shoulder, she can see his friends nudging each other, attempting sly winks but they are patently obvious. They are an intriguing mix – all international, she would guess, postgraduates, or scientists, or both. One is slightly rotund with a boyish grin and thick eyebrows to match thick-rimmed square glasses, whose dark hair suggest origins from somewhere Mediterranean. Another is lanky, with long side burns and mustache and rich dark skin tones – Middle East maybe? The third is all average, in height, build, and hair, but has beaky features that could be ugly on another man
No harm she thinks in keep her options open.

She angles her body towards the others, opening the space between her and Jeroen to include them. “How do you all know each other?”

“We’re work colleagues.” Jeroen mentions the name of a genetics lab that sounds vaguely familiar. There are so many science parks centres clustered on the outskirts of Cambridge that she
She keeps her smile broad, knowing all her teeth are showing, making full eye contact with each of the men as she takes their hands. She was half right about their backgrounds. Xavier is from Portugal, and Orhan Turkey, but the German turned out to be Irish Diarmuid.

“Are you meeting friends?” Orhan asks, kindly, as is she might be a lonely soul.

She shakes her head. “Just me.”

None of her friends would come out with her on a night like this. Nor would she want them.

-
Next: 34. Down Below

Image found on flickr, by James Bowe, used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.