He knew she’d be there, hogging the drinks table, wine-glass in hand—he wonders how many she’s poured down her throat already. The way she wobbles on those shoes makes him almost forget her legs are, well, kinda long… If it wasn’t for the way her voice reminds him of her horse…
“Alec,” she brays.” So wonderful to see you.”
Perhaps he’ll slip round her to reach the bottles.
“I was hoping you’d…” She takes his glass and tries to pour his drink.
“You know, you always avoid me.”
“I don’t,” says he.
Red wine splashes wetly down his shirt.
Not sure I fulfilled the challenge but still, it’s a try.