2:52am

Oliver did not understand what the young barista meant the previous night, but he still returned her friendly wave when entering the café. He also took notice of her sly glance toward the corner.

His Mystery Girl had yet to return.

"Still looks like it's just you and me, friend," the barista chuckled. "I never told you my name. I'm Miranda."

Oliver returned the greeting. "Nice seeing you, Miranda. I'm glad to see you are holding up well."

"I'm trying," she huffed. "What's yours?"

"I'll have a black coffee, please."

"I meant what's your name, not your order, silly!"

"I thought completely dodging your question would make it obvious that I did not want to answer," Oliver looked down bashfully.

"Cute. If you don't tell me your name, then I won't give you your coffee."

"If you don't give me my coffee, then I will not give you a tip," Oliver replied, unexpectedly courageous.

"Smart move," Miranda rang the register. "That will be 2.25."

He handed her the cash, plus an additional tip, and sat at his usual spot.

The door bell rang.
He looked up.
Finally, she was here — His Mystery Girl.

As soon as their eyes met, Her long legs determinedly walked toward Oliver's direction.

He took time to take Her in — She wore old combat boots. An oversized denim jacket wrapped around her button down shirt and baggy jeans. Her short black hair was tied into a pony tail, red sunglasses atop.

Oh, She's trouble. He wished to know Her name.

Oliver remained speechless as She was now standing in front of him.

This was the first time they'd been so close.

"I've always wondered why you stare at me, but never speak to me. Why do you do that?" The mysterious girl questioned him.

Her voice was rough.

The first words he'd ever say to her came out as a timid stutter.
"H-hello," He replied dumbly.

"You did not answer my question," She placed her palms on the table. "I want to know why you always stare at me, but never speak to me."

"I-um.."

"He thinks that by completely dodging your question, it'd be obvious that he doesn't want to answer," interjected a cheeky Miranda.

Mystery Girl raised Her eyebrow. "Is that true? You're trying to avoid my question?"

"N-no," Oliver stuttered. "I just...you intrigue me."

"How do I intrigue you?"

He stared at the table in silence.

He heard Her frustratedly huff at his silence.

Oh no. This was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to be wooing Her. Oliver was supposed to appear cool and mysterious, yet he was coming off as was awkward and weird. He felt like an idiot. "I-I'm sorry. I did not mean to weird you out," he choked.

The nameless girl shook her head. "You don't weird me out. You do irritate me though. Why do you never speak to me?"

He could tell Her that he was scared.
He could tell Her that he was a coward.
He could tell Her that he was socially awkward.
He could tell Her that he was intimidated by her beauty.

Instead, Oliver decided to say "you always seem like you want to be alone."

Mystery Girl scrutinized him before stating, "there's a difference between being alone and being lonely. Some people enjoy being alone, but all people hate being lonely."
She glanced at the chair beside him. "May I sit, since it looks like you're too cowardly to make the first move?"

Not trusting his own voice, Oliver nodded as She took a seat.