She’s captivating. He’s looking at her and thinking about going up to her and talking to her. He’s thinking about asking her out because he can’t focus on anything but the way she drinks her coffee like she’s been practising for this moment her entire life. Every sip is perfect. She is perfect.
His hands shake. He is torn between needing a cigarette and needing to talk to her. He pulls out a straight, but chooses the latter. Strolling up to her, running a hand through his tousled hair, he smiles awkwardly as she looks up. Noticing him. She regards him with an indifferent gaze.
"Hi." He murmurs.
She folds her arms at looks at him with a look that says “Well?”
"Can I buy you a coffee?" He asks in a low tone.
"I drink tea," She states, "cut to the chase."
”Um, well, I was going to ask you out -“
She interrupts him, “You have been staring at me for half an hour deciding whether or not to talk to me. In that half an hour you have created two things: one - an unrealistic idea of me you have painted because you want to buy into cliches and stereotypes, and two - a plan of action; You were going to ask me out over a cup of coffee, which I don’t drink, hoping we can later go for a walk and a smoke - I don’t smoke, but I notice you have a cigarette in your hand. My hair is in a messy bun and I have a book so you assume I’m a poet like yourself - I noticed you reading Bukowski earlier and making deliberately artsy messy notes in a notebook. I assume they are poems - probably about cigarettes and the way her lips taste and the stars and drinking alcohol alone because you think Bukowski had it all.
You picked up personality tips from movies like the Perks of Being A Wallflower and rom-coms other girls have made you watch, and have decided the best combination to work on me. You were going for the messy, shy, sensitive, mildly depressed teenage poet who makes girls both drool and want to save him. Unfortunately constructed personalities are not my type, unless found in books where they do not have the power to manifest themselves in front of me and ask me for coffee, which I don’t drink.”
She smiled at him, genuinely and pleasantly.
"So, why the construct?" She asked, knowing he didn’t have an answer.
They never did.