Omar waves the bartender over for another round then turns to Precious.
“I want to see you again, maybe make you my favorite Senegalese dish cee bu jen. It’s spicy, like you.” He whispers against her cheek.
He is close enough for Precious to smell the whiskey on his breath.
“I like your spirit.” Omar fingers a thick strand of hair. “And your hair, and your eyes, and your lips.” He is so close that Precious can feel the light stubble on his cheek. “You’re just the right amount of everything.” He says. Then he kisses her. And she lets him.