You can’t wait, can you? To see him. It’s 50/50. Maybe you’ll have that chemistry again? Well, if not, it’s nothing that alcohol couldn’t fix. You calm down. You play it cool. You’re getting dressed. You send him an open ended text. Like, whatever. Your phone is charging. This is a long pause. You wait. You do things. Any things. Vibrates. It could be your mother… but it’s him. It’s his 15 words. You read and re-read them. It’s just nouns and pronouns, adjectives and verbs but… in this particular order, coming from that particular phone number, they make you scream. You are lifted up. Yes, tonight will be a great night. You will even wear fake lashes. Your skin is perfect. Isn’t this a sign from the Gods? You decide… right there and then… that tonight… there will be no games, no calculation and no hesitation. You will see him and smile, and flirt, and giggle… You’ll meet his friends, dance with yours, and let the night be beautiful.
Excerpt from ‘L.E.S. Artistes (The Cassius Kent Memoirs)’