First message
She went out for a morning run and decided to take a different route than usual.
Half an hour later she spotted a coffee shop.
Stylish interior. Manhattan prices.
Curious, she stepped inside wearing nothing but running shorts and a sports top.
The barista turned and smiled.
“Good morning. What can I get you? I’d recommend our cappuccino. It has subtle vanilla notes.”
She smiled back.
He was ridiculously charming. Tall, handsome and effortlessly stylish.
For a moment, she wanted to kidnap him.
“Yes, I’d love one,” she said.
While he prepared the coffee, she decided there was no point overthinking it.
“Can I get your number?”
He set the cup down in front of her and leaned slightly closer.
“Listen,” he said, his smile fading. “This is Manhattan. It’s pretty obvious we’re from different worlds. I don’t date wealthy clients. That’s a personal rule.”
She froze for a second. Then the lie came naturally.
“I’m just visiting friends. I’m a regular girl out for a run.”
He looked her over. Sports clothes, no jewelry, no obvious signs of money.
“Alright,” he said at last. “But if you’re lying…”
He tore a page from a notepad and handed it to her.
She wrote down her name and number.
She was absolutely lying, but not trying would have been worse.
“Coffee’s on the house,” he said with a wink. “I’ll text you.”
She left with the cup in her hands.
The game had begun.
No luxury cars. No expensive jewelry.
Just her.