(Over)thoughts

“I’m thinking coffee,” he said. “Downtown someplace, not somewhere generic.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, but he seemed to be waiting for an answer. She watched him cross his arms in front of himself, his frayed, black sweatshirt scrunching and tightening as he moved. “You mean now?” she asked.

“Yeah. You’ll have to drive. It’s a long story not worth going into, but I don’t have a car.”

That did mean he was asking her out, right? She didn’t have much dating experience, so she wasn’t entirely sure. She did have a class in an hour, but for some reason, she felt stupid telling him that. And she didn’t want to postpone their date, or whatever it was. He intrigued her, and he was different than any of the other guys she had been attracted to before.

“Let’s do it,” she said, and smiled at him. “My car is at the end of the lot.”

“I know,” he said, and started walking.

Excited, but trying not to show how much, she quickly turned and headed after him.

Having no idea where she was going, she followed his directions and drove to the coffee shop.

There was a reason she never went downtown. Getting there at all, much less without creating an accident on all the one-way streets that never seemed to actually go the way that made any sense, was a big enough deal. Trying to find a parking spot and actually fit into it with her gigantic boat-car almost made her stop breathing.

Luckily, he knew of an employee parking lot behind one of the buildings, down the street from where they were going. “They’ll never check,” he promised. “Don’t worry.”

Having barely put the car in park, he grabbed the door handle and let himself out. She reached to undo her seatbelt and realized he hadn’t ever put his on.

She got out of the car, pushed hard to make sure the door shut properly, and followed after him. He walked a step or two ahead of her the whole way, and she had a hard time keeping up.

At the coffee shop, he pushed the door out behind him to let her in. It was almost shut again by the time it was in her reach, but he had tried to keep it open for her, which was nice of him. Maybe she was just too slow.

The place was practically empty and there was no line. Walking immediately up to the counter, he placed his order. He knew exactly what he wanted, without ever even looking at the menu. She, however, couldn’t repeat what he said if she tried, and she had no idea what to order. She knew she liked cold and sweet, specifically that frozen thing that she was pretty sure started with an “F.” But she couldn’t find it anywhere on the menu. Terms like Venti, Macchiato, Au and Lait meant nothing to her, and she felt like a complete idiot. Was there a menu in English somewhere?

She glanced up at him and he looked impatient, like he was waiting for her to just make up her mind already.

Impulsively, she chose a lemon espresso something, having no idea what it even was. But she usually liked lemon anything, so it seemed like a safe bet. She didn’t want to admit she had no idea what anything on the menu actually meant.

He paid for both drinks, which was a good sign. So he was generous, chivalrous and this really was a date. At least, she was pretty sure that’s what everything was adding up to.

The guy behind the counter handed her the cup. It was full-sized, but it had practically nothing in it. She almost dropped it because of the lack of weight, but she recovered quickly and was pretty sure no one else noticed.

They walked toward a table next to the back wall and he sat down. She sat in the chair across from him and glanced out the window, setting her cup on the table in front of her while she settled in. The temperature outside still said summer, but the leaves knew otherwise. They were scattered all over the street, the general definition of fall.

Steam escaped from the white plastic lid of her cup, and she took a whiff. It smelled lemony, not so bad. But there was barely any liquid in her cup, which was really weird. Why would they waste an entire cup when it was almost empty? It was also clearly hot, which was definitely not what she wanted. She could feel the sweat dew on her bare arms as she pushed her arms out slightly so they wouldn’t actually touch her tank top.

Tipping the cup up, she took a sip. The coffee, if that’s what it actually was, not only tasted completely awful, sour and bitter, but it was way too hot and it burned her tongue. She coughed, then forced a smile as she looked at him. He hadn’t even set down his drink this whole time. He just cupped it in his hand and lifted it to his mouth once-in-a-while, rubbing the fingers from his other hand down his cheeks and chin.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she managed to say, trying to ignore the burn in her mouth. “Too bad it doesn’t actually feel like fall yet.”

“I like the heat, “ he stated bluntly, then stared at the wall opposite the window, his sweatshirt rubbing his right wrist as he continued to rub his face with his fingers, from his cheeks down to his chin, as if he were solving a riddle.

She wasn’t sure what to say, and he just sipped his drink, with no attempt at conversation. Was he waiting for her to take the lead? A moment of panic overtook her and her mouth went dry.

Topics of conversation raced though her head, but nothing seemed relevant or interesting enough for her to say aloud. She felt like she should start spouting off something about philosophy, but as she looked across the table at him, her brain went blank. She couldn’t help but take it as a sign that he must just be out of her league. Nothing in her view pointed to her belonging there at all. Was this what people meant about first dates being really bad?

And what was she supposed to do with her practically empty cup? Ignore it? Make it seem like she was finished? Pretend to drink the thing that was supposed to be some form of coffee, but had presumably curdled? It would have made things so much easier if she had just ordered an ice water, or maybe just told the truth in the first place and said she had to go to class.

But he was cute. And he liked her, right? He had asked her out, not the other way around. Her inexperience flooded over her, and she looked down at her cup and sighed, inadvertently making herself a little shorter as she sank into the chair.

She never knew that something so simple as a cup of coffee could make her feel so naive.

*Fiction