Hello... you.

You've walked right into my bookstore, glancing around at the shelves as if I haven't seen you walking past the shop repeatedly for the past week, although never coming in.

We've met eyes a few times, but even when I don't see you I can sense you looking. And, yet...

You approach me, asking if we have any books from this author you mention — of course we do — and I take you down to that section, but really I know you just wanted to get me alone.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say you fancied me.