Ah, there he is again, looking cute as usual. Those bright blue eyes are like swimming pools–I just want to dive right in. I first noticed him a few weeks ago when Elyse and I had our monthly best friend coffee date. Since then, I haven’t stopped seeing him, and I’m kinda glad that I’ve chosen this coffeeshop to get my writing done. Elyse has been trying to talk me in to making the first move, but I’m far too socially awkward around my own friends, let alone handsome strangers. I mean, if he were interested, he would come up to me, right? What the hell am I thinking? Guys aren’t interested in me–I’m always the friend-zoned type of girl. Is it some kind of vibe I give away? The dating world is so foreign to me; I’m almost thirty and have only been in one serious relationship. I shake my head in an attempt to refocus on the blank Word document in front of me. I have three articles due by Friday, and I’m not too keen on letting some boy distract me from work.
Suddenly, a stranger cyclones in, trying to squeeze in to the seat next to me and knocks over my coffee with her gigantic laptop bag. “Ooops, sorry,” she says in her fake, Valley girl tone. I was halfway expecting her to offer me a new cup of coffee, but instead, she follows up with, “I’ll get a worker to clean this up.” Being the non-confrontational person I am, I smile and reply, “Ok, thanks.” I throw the empty coffee cup away. It didn’t spill over my laptop, but it did get my feet. Talk about a bad day to wear flip flops. Before the stickiness sets in, I close my laptop shut and run to the bathroom, leaving my personal belongings out in the open. I know it’s a terrible habit, but as a frequent customer, I’d like to think the workers have my back.
When I return from the bathroom, a new cup of coffee awaits by my laptop. Thinking the workers hooked me up with a free drink, I walk up to the barista stand to thank them. “Oh, no problem. That guy over there actually told us your drink spilled,” one of the baristas replies. She nods in the direction of the cute blue-eyed guy. “He even knew your exact order,” she smiles as if she was trying to nudge me in to talking to him. Before walking back to my seat, I decide to take this turn of events as a sign and work up the courage to finally speak to the cute guy. As I make my way to him, he looks up from his work as if he knew I was approaching. We make eye contact yet again and he smiles. Oh, God, he’s got dimples, too. Blue eyes and dimples–both of which are my weakness.
“Hi, thanks for the coffee,” I say shyly. My words come out almost as a whisper. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear because I don’t know how to flirt.
“Oh, no problem.” He shrugs. “Least I could do; that girl didn’t even seem apologetic for knocking it over.”
“Yeah,” is all I could mutter. I look down at the ground and laugh nervously. Oh gosh, I can’t carry a conversation for shit. This is going terribly.
He lets out a small laugh. Maybe he’s the type of guy who finds awkwardness cute. “Y’know, I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you. Been seeing you around here a lot. I’m Nick by the way.” He holds his hand out.
I shake his hand firmly to show I’m somewhat confident. “I’m Christy,” I reply. “Yeah, I do come here a lot. Perks of being a writer, I guess.”
“Great meeting you, Christy. A writer, huh? That’s awesome. Maybe I should read some of your stuff sometime,” Nick says.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I smile. The blenders drown out a moment of awkward silence between us. He takes a sip of his coffee and clears his throat. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you because I was actually interested in your friend that came in with you a few weeks ago. Can you pass this along to her for me?” he smiles, flashing a little wink as he writes his number on a ripped piece of paper.