I’ve been at the coffee shop for thirty minutes and he hasn’t showed. I didn’t see him on the way here and I haven’t seen him pass. For all I know, he isn’t coming.
He’s probably with her.
Suddenly the coffee shop is too crowded, the space doesn’t seem as comfortable as it was. I stand and head towards the door, eyes on the floor with that screaming band blasting in my ears. I’m focusing on leaving as quickly as possible when I feel myself collide with something hard.
“Shit, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”
I look up at the owner of the deep voice and my stomach drops.
My throat is filled with words I want to say but my tongue is reluctant to force any of them out. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
He is here! Talk to him!
My head is spinning and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest yet I cant manage to get a word out.
He notices my headphones and looks at my phone screen, “Hey, that’s my favorite band!”
The words, “I know” are suddenly at the tip of my tongue and I have to swallow hard to keep them in.
“Really? Mine too,” my voice is shaking and I’m sure he can tell.
“Have you been to the music shop down the street,” He asks as he walks to the counter to order his coffee.
I glance at the door, wondering exactly what my chances were of getting out of this quickly. Slim to none, it seems.
You’ve waited months to talk to him, what is wrong with you?
I’ve waited months to talk to him, wishing to hear his voice say my name but I had never considered what it would feel like to hear my name come out of lips that have kissed Music Store Girl.
Despite this I follow him to the counter, “I’ve been there once or twice, they don’t have enough of the old stuff though.”
The old stuff? You have no idea what you’re talking about.
“You want a coffee,” he asks as he pulls a wallet from his pocket.
I nod, not trusting myself with words at this moment.
He tells me all about his favorite bands and what he likes to do while we wait for our coffee. I soak up all of it like I don’t know anything about him, like he is a stranger.
He IS a stranger, you know.
As we sit down I realize he knows nothing about me. I could completely reinvent myself.
So I tell him some things about me, how I love loud, screaming bands and classic literature. How I play drums and like coffee black. He leans forward on the table, looking at me as if I’m some sort of miracle, like he found himself in female form. I laugh and smile at all the right times, touch his hand occasionally. I know all the things I’m supposed to say, words I don’t remember learning are flowing out as if I was pumped full of them when took a sip of my coffee.
“Ava, it’s kind of crazy how much we have in common,” he says, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head.I nod and laugh a little, just like I’m supposed to.
“Do you come here everyday?”
I debate telling him the truth or not.
The truth?
Well I debate whether I should tell him yes or no. The truth might be a bit startling to hear.
“Sometimes,” I say, smiling, “It just depends on how I’m feeling, I guess.”
He leans forward and suddenly our faces are inches apart, and I can feel his breath on my face.
“Well how are you feeling tomorrow? Because I’d really like to see you again.”
“I think I’m feeling pretty good, Alec.”
I say his name over and over again in my head.
Alec. Alec. Alec. Finally a name to match this person you know so well.
