By: Niki Tori
[Hit Me Up]
A pricey fashion magazine entertained an amused young woman. She tucked her poufy black hair behind her ear before looking up at the airport flight itinerary. Not a single thing about her imitated that corny image that every page presented. Her weight couldn't be determined with the clothes that hugged her. As for age she could pass no older than nineteen. Oil kept her tan skin looking smooth and unbelievably healthy.
It was that average aura that attracted the devilishly dressed man at the café bar. Occasionally he would slick back his pasted hair allowing a few strands to bless his stern and recluse face. A quick glance at his watch got him up and out of the store. For a moment he paused to examine the lady as he adjusted his suitcase to roll it alongside him.
"These girls look sickly. Storm the runway…really, more like Gone with the Wind." She snickered, before pushing up her thin framed glasses.
The wheels of the gentleman's leopard suitcase rolled right over her feet and she screamed…loud. Blood from a paper cut trickled down her index finger.
"Excuse me! You just did a hit and run on my feet."
"Are you talking about, me?" He inquired flaccidly, while pointing at his own chest. "I am so sorry. I was in a rush to get to my plane."
"Uh… okay." She shrugged before standing. "Geez what the hell do you have in that thing."
"Ha, you don't want to know, trust me. I really do feel bad about this…uh—may I ask your name?"
"Haruka—"She said pronouncing every syllable slowly. "—but most people can get away with calling me Ruka. I prefer it actually, my parents don't."
"Nice to meet you, I am Aito. Well here's my card. If you ever decide to come to my neck of the woods why don't you hit me up? I'll make this up to you."
"Thanks. Safe travels." Haruka smiled, before pushing the card into her jean pocket. She tossed her book bag over one shoulder then headed the opposite way towards her gate. The man checked out her body from behind, before departing himself. "That guy was nice."
Carelessly she tossed the sullied magazine into the trash can; the man that just hit her foot had his face brimming on the back cover.