March 6, 2018
When the door of the coffee shop swung open, he looked over his shoulder to see her walking in.
Their eyes met. A small smile, much like the one of the day before, tugged at the corners of her lips while a more obvious one appeared on his face.
"Hello there," he said when she was close enough.
Curiosity pumped through his veins as he took in her appearance, wondering why he was so drawn to her. She was calm, cool, collected.
"Hi," she responded.
He noticed that her eyes seemed brighter than the day before.
"I didn't think you'd still be in the city; what's kept you around?" he asked.
"I could say the same to you," she countered.
He paused for a moment.
"I asked first."
His smile grew when she almost laughed. Almost.
"Why should I tell you? We're strangers."
He raised his finger in the air, "Ah, but we're not."
She shot him an expectant look.
"We're on a first name basis."
That time she did laugh. It was the kind of sound that made him want to laugh too.
"You're right," she allowed. "My dad's a business man, travels all the time for work purposes. I go with him, so this week's adventure is Chicago."
"Oh, wow. You travel all over the country?"
"Yes. The big cities at least. I wish... you know, I wish they would hold their conferences in small towns, but that's not very appealing to those who like their spotless, clean hotel rooms and continental breakfasts."
He nodded as he glanced ahead, dreading the second his coffee would be ready.
"Well?" she said. "It's your turn. Why are you still here?"
He turned his attention to her again, realizing he hadn't yet thought about how he was going to describe his career.
"I'm... uh... well, I'm in a band," he got out.
Her eyebrows furrowed together, as if in thought.
"Like...."
She raised her arms to pretend to play a violin while blessing the boy next to her with an awful interpretation of what the instrument sounded like.
He let out a genuine laugh. That was when she decided that she was actually enjoying talking to him.
"No," he said, amusement still evident in his tone. "No, like... a singing band. With four of my best friends."
"Hmm," she hummed, eyes conveying she was slightly surprised. "Nice... do you guys record around here?"
"Actually, we're on tour."
She thought it was ridiculously hilarious how casually he said it.
"What? Wow, I'm talking to a celebrity."
"I wouldn't call myself—"
"Well, I'm going to," she said firmly, though she was still smiling a little. He admired how she was able to do both at the same time.
"I'm honored. To be in your presence," she added.
He was about to retort when one of the baristas called his name. He retrieved his drink, and as he was stepping back to her, noticed that she was holding a different book than the one from the day before.
"New book?" he inquired.
She glanced at the novel in her hand, looked back at him, nodded.
"The book yesterday, how much of it had you already read?" he asked.
"I hadn't started it yet," she said, immediately grinning at the gentle shock on his face.
"So, you're an avid reader."
"You could say that," she said, nodding.
"That's pretty amaz—"
The sound of his phone ringing cut him off.
"I'm sorry," he said in her direction as he fished the device out of his jacket pocket.
"Hey, where are you, man?" Corbyn's voice came through.
"Picking up my coffee; I'll be there in five minutes."
"Alright, just wanted to let you know because we're loading up the bus."
"Alright, see you soon."
She smiled understandingly while he returned his phone to his pocket.
"Fame calling?" she said, eyes dancing.
He shook his head, but his smile betrayed him.
"The band's loading up the bus."
She nodded once again.
"Well... it was a strange, wonderful experience meeting you, Jonah."
"Same with you," he said kindly.
They both stood there for a moment, not really knowing how to part.
"Have a good day," he said, making as if he was going to move away.
Saying that made him feel surprisingly off... Not sad per say—he didn't really know her—but... telling her that he hoped she would have a good day was pointless if he was never going to see her again. He might as well just wish her a happy rest of the week, month, year, life.
"You too," she said, "and good luck. With everything."
After a moment when he didn't say anything else, she offered him a closed-mouth smile before walking away to stand in line, her back to him.
He stared after her.
He wanted to know her. He wanted to stand in line with her as she waited for her coffee and then sit at one of the tables and learn more about her life of traveling and books. He wanted to ask for her phone number. He wanted to talk to her many more times in the days to come. He wanted to know her.
But he knew that was irrational.
He sighed as he walked down the sidewalk, leaving the building behind.