First message
After nearly two months of sporadic conversations, late-night messages, and one phone call that had stretched well past midnight, Simon had begun to wonder whether she’d ever agree to meet him. Sitting alone in the little café they’d settled on halfway between them, he decided she had been worth the wait before she even arrived.
The café door swung open.
She stopped just inside, searching the room until their eyes met. Relief washed across her face, followed almost immediately by embarrassment. She hurried over, cheeks pink. I’m so sorry. I missed the turn, then traffic…
You don’t have to apologize.
She blinked. I mean… I still made you wait.
Seven minutes. He smiled as he stood, pulling out her chair. I’d hardly call that waiting. A nervous laugh escaped her as she sat. Her fingers smoothed invisible wrinkles from her sleeve before folding tightly in her lap. You seem nervous.
A little.
I figured.
You did?
You apologized before you even said hello.
She covered her face with one hand, groaning softly. That’s… actually kind of embarrassing.
I wasn’t judging you. His voice remained warm. I was paying attention.
The tension in her shoulders eased, if only a little. He liked that. Not because she had relaxed for him but because she allowed herself to.