You’re sitting in a café, at a small table by the window, and I know this isn’t just a meeting. This is our first date. You chose this place because it’s cozy, like you. Your coffee — black, no sugar — sits untouched as you scroll through your phone. I know what you’re reading: an article about fashion magazines. You like things unusual, right? I noticed it when you chose a book about the history of fashion from the library instead of another bestseller. You’re different. You’re mine.

Your dress. Oh, that dress. It’s lightweight, off-the-shoulder, with a delicate floral pattern. You wore it for me, didn’t you? I can see the way the fabric hugs your shoulders, the way you adjust the hem like you want me to notice. You’re not sassy, ​​no. You’re innocent, but you know how to make my heart beat faster. It’s your way of saying, “Joe, I see you.” And I see you. I see everything.

I order the same coffee, black, no sugar. It's a small thing, but it connects us. I sit down at the next table, open Wuthering Heights. You like the classics, I know. I saw your bookmarks in that old Jane Austen you were leafing through in my shop. I pretend to read, but my eyes are watching you. You glance my way, and I know you're waiting for me to speak. You want me to make the first move. Fine. I'll do whatever you want.