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You get déjà vu when you meet them because they all start to morph together in your mind. But every once in a while there’s a stand out. A woman with a spark of something extra, something unexpected. You’re not even sure what it is that sets them apart from the crowd, but it’s exciting when you see it.
    This woman has that something. She has that spark that feels more like a flame. A heat radiating from her center that mesmerizes me like campfire at night. 
    She looks up as I take a seat on the serpentine couch across from her. I smile subtly. She casts me a polite grin in return before turning back to her book. Her mossy green eyes are gorgeous and round. And checking me out over the top of the pages.
    “Hi,” I say quietly, calling her out.
    She grins again, this one lingering on her lips. “Hi.”
    “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Uh, sure,” she chuckles in surprise.
    “Birthday cake. It’s overrated, right?”
    “That’s not really a question.”
    “Sure it is.”
    “Not the way you phrased it. The way you’re asking, giving me your own conclusions on the subject and asking me to agree, tells me you’re insecure about the topic. You’re looking for allies in your fight.”
    “Against birthday cake?”
    “Maybe against birthdays in general.” She leans forward slightly, lowering her book. Giving me her full attention, the full force of her eyes. “Tell me what the bad holiday did to you?”
    I chuckle as I sink into my seat, throwing my arm over the back of the couch. “Not a thing. Birthdays have always been pretty good to me.”
    “Are you sure about that?”
    “They’ve gotten me this far, haven’t they?”
    “That’s another plea for me to side with you. You’re not sure you’re happy with where your birthdays have gotten you.”
    I run my tongue along the inside of my teeth, considering her. She stares back at me without flinching. “You’re clever.”
    “You’re dodging.”
    “Dodging what?”
    “Your own question. You’re offering me a compliment, redirecting my attention.” She gestures to my casual posture with long, elegant fingers. A ring glistens in the light, and I catch myself double checking if it’s on her right or left hand. I feel an odd sense of relief that it’s on her right. “Plus you’re pulling away. You leaned back into the couch. You’re distancing yourself from the subject. You don’t want to talk about birthdays anymore.”
    “Do you?”
    “Redirecting.”
    I laugh, lowering my arm from the couch. I make a show of sitting forward with my elbows on my knees. “You’re a hard person to have a casual conversation with.”
    “I could say the same thing about you,” she says with a slow, flirtatious smile.
    “Want to start again?”
    “We’ll only end up right back here.”
    “Not if I rephrase the question. How do you feel about birthday cake?”
    Her eyes dance like starlight on water. “It’s overrated.”
    I laugh again, hanging my head in defeat. “I give up.”
    “You concede?”
    “I do. You win...” I look up at her questioningly, letting my sentence fade out.
    She offers me her hand. “Harper.”
    I sit forward, stretching my arm across the distance between us. “Kurtis.”
    “It’s nice to meet you.”
    “You too.”
    The scent of her perfume wafts over me; citrus and sweet. Her fingers feel delicate against mine. Her skin is impossibly soft, but her grip is firm.
    I release her reluctantly.
    She settles back into her seat, giving me an appraising look over. “That’s a pretty slick opening line you’ve got there.”
    “You like it?”
    She looks at me silently, reminding me what I’m doing. Telling me she knows it.
    “Force of habit,” I confess with a smile. “Yeah, it’s a good line. It has a high success rate.”
    “Until today.”
    “Especially today.”
    “I dismantled it,” she protests on a laugh.
    “But we’re talking. You’re laughing. I call that a success.”
    Harper chews on that for a