A Flat White & A Tea

Love At First Sight...

I understand why people love summer so much. I do as well. But I can’t quite prefer it over autumn and the way the season makes me feel. So here I sit in a coffee shop, with a warm flat white in my hands. I’m watching the rain fall through the window, turning the street a dark grey colour covered in auburn leaves. The book I’m reading has been open in front of me for the last half an hour and not a single page turned. Because all I can focus on is the rain.

A car stops right in on the curb outside the coffee shop, and then you come out. You glance at me through the window in a passing glance sort of way, walking away. I blink and look down at my book. Page 45. Taking a sip of my coffee, I continue to the read the words that take me to another place. I hear the door bell chime. Once. Twice. A few more times. The sound of the coffee shop eases away a little while I become more enamoured with the pages in front of me.

‘Is this seat free?’

My head snaps to my right, and there you are. You’re holding what I would guess is tea in your hands. Your hair is wet, and you run a slow hand through them. I look around me because I’m not entirely sure if you are talking to me. There’s this look on your face where you know the answer to the question and simply want me to say it so we both know I want you to sit in the seat next to mine. I reckon you’ll get some sort of satisfaction from that.

‘Well it’s empty isn’t it?’

I wasn’t going to actually say yes, was I? Your smile widens every so slightly and you place your cup of tea on the counter, next to my flat white. You move to sit on the stool next to mine so I move my eyes and find the sentence I lost on my page.

‘Glorious day isn’t it?’ Your hand brings up the tea to your lips and you sip it without even blowing on it. The sarcasm in your voice can be heard a mile away. Keeping my gaze away from you, I watch the words blend on the page before me.

‘I quite prefer it.’ Pretending to read at this point, I turn the page over.

‘Then so do I.’

I finally look up at you again, because I couldn’t pick up on the sarcasm. I couldn’t quite see where the joke in that was. You smirk slightly, satisfied with yourself for having my gaze on yours.

‘Can I help you with something?’

‘You could help me with many things.’

‘Like?’

‘Your number for starters.’

I go silent not entirely sure how to respond to that. You watch me, waiting to see what I’ll say. It’s at that moment I realise you have green eyes. And that they’re pretty.

‘Or your name.’ He shrugs nonchalantly. Lifting the cup to your lips again, this time you turn and angle yourself towards me. Your eyes never seem to leave mine. I feel all weird inside because people like you don’t seem to sit next to people like me. So I do what I do best, I avert. Looking at your cup, I raise my eyebrows at you.

‘Are you drinking tea?’

You pull the cup away and look down at it, confusion striking your face.

‘Hm I guess so, I just took whatever was ready on the counter.’ My eyes widen and you start laughing like a maniac. ‘I’m joking, I’m not that scandalous.’

I blush a little and look away from you. ‘Huh, what a shame.’ This time you look a little surprised and it makes me laugh.

‘I could be that if you want,’ For some reason this makes me laugh more and you lean in a little. Your smell invades my senses and suddenly I’m not laughing. Rather I’m nervous. ‘You look nervous.’ Your head tilts to the side so I lift my cup and take a sip of my coffee.

‘A strange man attempting to flirt with me on this gloomy day?’ I lean a little and there’s only a mere inches between us. ‘Why would that ever make me nervous?’

Your gaze flickers down and back up from my lips so fast I almost miss it. I probably would have if I blinked. Taking a deep breath you lean back and mull over what you want to say to me next.

‘You have foam on your lips,’ I move to get a tissue but you’re already patting my lips with one that miraculously appeared in your hands. I feel my face turning beetroot red and you smirk at me.

‘Allow yourself to fall for someone.’ I rear back even more and my eyebrows furrow in annoyance.

‘Excuse me?’ Your hand is suspended in air from me moving away from you. Your eyes don’t leave mine. They never do. So you place your other hand on the back of my neck and pull me forward. Resuming what you were doing before.

This time you whisper so low, you make sure it’s only for me to hear.

‘Allow yourself to fall for someone.’ Your hand drops from my lips, putting the tissue on the counter. Yet your other hand doesn’t move from the back of my neck. ‘Preferably me.’

Before I can even tell you to remove your hand from my neck, you drop it and move back. Turning around to face the window again. I turn away too, looking out the window. The rain has gotten heavier.

‘You know, you have some nerve to say that to me. You don’t even know me. Maybe I am in love with someone. Or maybe I am sick and tired of people telling me it will come when I least expect it. Am I truly expected to give every person a chance that has some kind of interest in me? Or maybe I’m supposed to go on a date a week to figure out which one on the list fits best. But in reality no one really fits. Nothing ever fits. What makes you think you will? What makes you think you’re the exception and not the rule. Am I really supposed to believe that luck found me on a random Tuesday morning in a coffee shop?’

I realise I’m out of breath from rambling. My chest rises and falls fast and I feel nervous to turn and look at you. In the fear you think I’m insane. So I look out the window, waiting for you to say something. I watch the street out the coffee shop. I watch the empty parking spot through the harsh rain. And I turn and look at the empty seat next to mine.

I look down at the book in front of me.

Page 138.