She lives in daydreams with me.
She's the first one that I see
And I don't know why
I don't know who she is
'She' by Harry Styles

2:00am
As soon as Oliver entered the small, lesser-known café, he glanced toward Her usual seat.

She was alone with a cup of black tea in Her right hand, pen in the other, and a journal on the wooden table.

This was the exact position he had always seen Her in.

Oliver always wondered what She was doing in that journal. Perhaps she was drawing the scenery of the café that surrounded her — clusters of brown chairs and tables under dim light bulbs. An old chalkboard menu hanging on the bricked wall. The dark wooden floor that had a tendency to creek by the slightest step.

Or perhaps She drew the empty sidewalks outside of the window? There was not much to draw at two o'clock in the morning, besides a single bench and a lamppost. Still, Oliver noticed She always sat near the cramped corner to stare through the small window quite often.

Perhaps She used the journal to draw the man himself — the curly haired, skinny, pale guy who stared at Her with tired and admiring hazel eyes.

Or maybe She was writing about Her day. He always wondered what Her routine was like. As far as He knew, based on Her lack of social interaction, She would do nothing besides go to the café at unreasonable hours.

What if She wrote about Her deepest secrets and darkest thoughts that were nearly as dark as Her eyes?

A large part of Oliver had hoped She wrote about him, the infatuated stranger who She always shared stares with.

Everything about Her made him curious.

What does Her voice sound like?
What's Her favorite color?
What music does She listen to?
Does She sleep with socks on or off?
Does She sleep at all?
What is Her name? The poor boy was too cowardly to inquire the girl.

They never spoke. They only stared. It was their only form of communication, really.

She was a mystery that Oliver was not certain he would have the courage to solve.

The only thing Oliver knew about Her was that She always sat at the same spot with a beat-up journal and ice water on the table.

He watched Her replace the pen with a cigarette.

Oh yes. He also knew She had a bit of a smoking habit.

He did not like it. Not because He did not like smokers (although he wasn't fond of them either), but because smoke always got in the way of things. Smoke was foggy and covered Her eyes, making it difficult for them to express eye-contact with one another.

But they had managed.

She tilted her head as though asking him a silent question.

Oliver furrowed his brows in confusion.

She slightly rolled her eyes before settling Her dark orbs back onto him, almost expectingly.

Why was She looking at him like that?

"Sir, what would you like?" A voiced asked behind him.

"Hm?"

"Sir, you've been standing in front of the menu for a while now. Would you like anything or..." the barista dragged. She did not bother to hide her irritation standing behind the cash register.

"Oh. I'm sorry about that," Oliver mumbled sheepishly.

His attention quickly diverted from the mysterious girl to order something random. The quicker he ordered something, the sooner he could look back at his favorite conundrum. "I'll get a cheeseburger, please."

"You are aware you're at a café, right? We don't sell burgers," the young barista retorted.

No, he was not aware of his surroundings. As long as She was there, he never really cared where he was. He'd go anywhere if it meant he'd get to see Her.

His mystery girl.

Oliver turned away from the barista to admire the mysterious girl once more, but he was too late.

She was gone.

Author's note
Our story has finally begun. The whole nameless thing is going to get old soon LOL. Please anticipate a name reveal for our mystery girl in Chapter 3.
For now, if you enjoyed this chapter, please vote and comment. Most importantly, take care of yourself x.