The first time I saw you was a Saturday evening.
I was sitting in one of the extra cushy chairs just outside the café area in Barnes and Noble when you sat down across from me. I looked up from my usual romance novel and stared. Initially, it was because you reminded me of my next-door neighbor from back home.
But after a few seconds, it was because I thought you were cute.
You were wearing a plain blue t-shirt and gray cargo shorts. You had short brown hair, a five o’clock shadow and a nice smile. And if the glasses you had on weren’t enough—because I’m a sucker for a guy in glasses—you opened the book in your hand and began reading. You were actually reading. And I’m not talking some random magazine from the stand a couple of yards away. You were reading an actual book.
It was enough to make a girl swoon.
At one point, you got up from your chair to order a drink at the café. You left your black messenger bag on the chair to save your spot. While you were gone, I was sorely tempted to write my name and number on a sticky note, which I didn’t have, leave it on your bag and leave the store and see if you’d call me. But being the girl that I am, I just sat, reading and fantasizing.
We remained sitting across from each other for the rest of the night and every now and then, I’d peak up from my own book. I couldn’t help it. At one point, I noticed we’d both stretched our legs and rested our feet on opposite corners of the coffee table between us. It made me smile.
After about an hour, an announcement was made. A man named Vincent had left his cell phone in the store and it was waiting for him at the café. We both looked up, caught each other’s eyes and shared a smile. A few minutes later, I turned to the café counter to see a man walk up to the cashier. I turned back and saw you watching the same scene.
“I wonder if that’s Vincent,” I said.
At the end of the night, we went our separate ways and on the way home, I kept wishing there had been more to our conversation.