Hard Beat

The guys reach out to touch her shoulders and arms – a pat on the back, a helping hand – all seemingly innocent; but I’m a guy. I know what’s probably running through their minds, and a single touch is way too many for my liking. So when she lifts her head and locks eyes with me, I stop in my tracks even though I’ve got one foot out to move forward. There’s something in the exchange that unnerves me: her soft smile, the fact that she’s looking at me when all of these men are vying for her attention. I don’t understand it exactly, but the minute it hits me, I hate it.