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Havyn was sniffling when Jack passed her the second time. He almost convinced himself to sit down and start a conversation, but he chickened out—like always. This has happened multiple times. Now, he sat in the men's bathroom, running cold water over his face. He wished he could ponder a way to talk to her without it being face-to-face and without getting caught.
Jack stared at his reflection in the mirror, mentally scrambling different ideas. Evidently, he wasn't prepared to speak to her. Leaving little notes was such a brobdingnagian risk.
Almost instantaneously, a plan formed in Jack's mind. He enthusiastically ripped off a piece of paper towel and scrawled out an eleven digit number. With one last motivational glance in the mirror, he took a deep breath and exited the bathroom.
Havyn sat at her booth for what seemed like hours. It was excruciating for Jack to sit and wait, but somehow he mustered enough patience. Once she finally got up, he snuck to her booth, dropped the note, and left the café.
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