A beginning

The café is noisy. Talking people. Music.

She looks up to find his eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, everything, including her heart, stills.

A moment.
A moment of silence.
A moment of not being able to think, not being able to breathe.

They're sitting next to each other, talking without saying words. They smile, laugh, and sing along to the (sometimes) sappy songs blaring through the speakers. Just two people enjoying a latte, a synthetic orange juice, and each other's company.

She's wondering what's on his mind when he's looking at her like that. She wants to ask him, but knows he'll (probably) say, "nothing". She wants to look up, look into his eyes, hold his gaze, but knows she can't...not in public...

Not when her pulse races every time he looks at her like that... Not when her breath catches like that.

It's been eight days. Eight days of texting and laughter. It had been so long, she'd almost forgotten.

Long after they've said goodbye, she finds herself smiling at something retarded he's said or done.

A joke.

A compliment.

He's so different from anyone else she's known - refreshingly honest, for one. Secure, confident, smart, funny... He makes her laugh. He makes her day, sometimes unknowingly, just being himself.

Most importantly, she finds it so easy to be herself around him...there are no masks, no hidden agendas, no mind games, no passive-aggressive control issues, no power plays.

He's on her mind, and she's started to realise that she likes having him around.

Maybe...

She looks at him over her latte, smiling to herself as he sings along.

Maybe.