Different

Tea person 🍵

"October 28th. Scorpio."

"Mhm. Here you are: Charismatic. Mysterious. Passionate. Sensual. Surprisingly accurate you said?"

She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow, unimpressed. "And what does it say about Taurus-Scorpio compatibility?"

He skimmed the page as he took out his wallet. "Oof. Terrible match. Not a good couple." He snapped the book closed and placed a twenty on the table. "Although it does say the sex is fantastic."

A flush rose to her pale cheeks and Dylan grinned. "It was nice meeting you, Wendy!" he called back, and exited the store.

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Two days later he was back. And it wasn't for a copy of Memoirs of a Revolutionist. He could not stop thinking about the cute goth chick in the bookstore. She was...different than his usual type, to say the least. But his heart beat quickened when he thought about her, that had to count for something. When he entered the store Wendy was sitting behind the counter reading something, her hair falling in a dark curtain over her face.

Steeling himself for rejection, Dylan made his way over and rapped gently on the counter. When she looked up he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Hi," he managed.

"Hi."

She was wearing a short sleeve black crop top, revealing a dark green serpent tattoo coiled around her left arm above the elbow. The fabric stretched tight over her chest and he could make out the outline of a tiny ring on each nipple. This girl was full of surprises.

"Can I help you with something?"

He realized he was staring and smiled sheepishly. "Uh. Yeah. Dylan, from the other day."

"I remember."

"Good, good."

"Did you want another book?"

"No, I- uh, would you want to get coffee? With me?"

She was quiet for a moment, her intense green eyes searching his face. "I can't leave, I'm the only one working today. And I'm more of a tea drinker."

Dylan puffed out his cheeks and exhaled deeply. "That's not a no."

"It is not."

"Okay. Okay! Great." He ran one hand nervously through his too-long mop of hair and nodded. "I'll be right back." Feeling elated, he jogged out of the store.

Twenty minutes later Dylan returned with two large take-out cups in hand. He set them down on the counter and began clearing volumes off the adjacent table. Wendy glanced up from her book.

"What are you doing?"

"You can't go get coffee so I brought the coffee to you. Proverbially speaking. Chamomile or chai?"

She eyed him warily.

"Chai."

Dylan slid the cup on his left towards her and hauled himself onto the table.

"What are you reading?"

She held up the book to show him the cover, a picture of a man with wild eyes and long mussed hair and the title CULTS in red capital letters.

"So nothing interesting then?" He joked.

Her lips twitched with a half smile. "Only if you don't think 39 people being brainwashed into thinking the Hale-Bopp comet was a spaceship that would bring them to heaven is interesting."

"Tell me more."

"Okay, well, it started with this man and woman. And he was gay but they were like...conspiracy soulmates."

Dylan nodded skeptically. As she continued, he found himself uncharacteristically engrossed in the story. He wasn't a morbid person to be sure but he had to admit it was pretty fascinating, especially the way Wendy told it.

"...and the weirdest part was that the bodies were all found wearing identical tracksuits and matching Nikes. And they all had exactly five dollars and three quarters in their pockets."

He whistled long and low. "Jeeeesus."

"Pretty bizarre, huh?" She sipped her tea. "So..."

"So?" He repeated, innocently.

"What's with all of this?"

"All of what?"

"The hanging around. The tea. The listening to me talk about mass suicide."

"Ah." He considered her carefully and decided to go with the most honest answer. "I think you're interesting. And really, really hot." Another half smile. "And I was hoping I could take you to dinner some time."