Miranda placed two mugs on the café table. "Your black coffee, your black tea."

"Thank you," Oliver mumbled, still staring at the mysterious girl sitting in front of him.

"You're welcome," Miranda turned to face the dark-haired girl, raising an eyebrow.

"Why are you still standing here?" Mystery Girl asked the waitress.

Miranda scoffed before walking off.

"That was a bit rude," Oliver quietly defended his new friend.

Friend. Is that what Miranda was? He wasn't sure.

Mystery Girl scoffed. "You're one to talk. Has anyone told you it's rude to stare at lonely girls in cafés?"

Oliver was sure She could see the pink tint on his pale cheeks.

Still, he took the time to examine Her up close. Her lips were red and thin with a small cut at the bottom. Her bushy eyebrows were arched, though one was thicker than the other. He noticed the small bumps on her forehead and two pimples that covered her pale skin.

She was imperfect. She was real and natural. He could stare at her forever.

Oliver suddenly felt wetness on his face.

The girl had used a straw to splash water onto him.

"You're distracted," She deadpanned.

Oh. He must have gotten caught up in Her beauty. "I'm sorry."

"Let's play Twenty-One Questions," She randomly suggested, giving a mischievous smirk.

Oliver furrowed his brow in confusion. "What is that?"

"You don't know what Twenty-One Questions is?" Miranda interjected, eyes comically wide from across the room. "Basically each person asks twenty-one questions about one another. It's a nice ice breaker. It's a classic game. I'm surprised you don't know what it is, silly-"

"Aren't you supposed to be working on orders or something?" The moody girl glared at the waitress.

"I already have," Miranda snapped back. "You two are the only customers, as per usual."

"Perhaps you can stop talking and start cleaning the furniture. It's dusty," Mystery Girl gestured toward the chairs and tables.

She wasn't wrong. But She sure was harsh.

Miranda stomped to get a rag and became occupied vigorously cleaning.

Mystery Girl turned back to face Oliver. "Now, before I was rudely interrupted by little Miss Nosey, let us play. You first."

"Erm..."

He's always had so many questions for Her.
So why has His mind gone completely blank?

"Okay, I'll start," She stated impatiently. "What's your name?"

"Oliver," he replied. "What about you?"

"My name is Vivian."

The name suited her.

"What's you're favorite color?" Vivian asked.

"Green. How old are you?"

"Eighteen, same age as you. Is your hair naturally that curly, Oliver?"

"How do you know my age?" He questioned.

"Last time I checked, it was my turn to ask a question, sir Oliver," Vivian teased. "I asked if your hair is naturally curly."

"Yes. What's your favorite café beverage?"

"Black tea. Why are you always at this café during late nights and early mornings?"

"Because of you."

"What do you mean by that?"

Truthfully, Oliver never cared for the café. He was simply there to admire the girl who wrote in her journal. Speaking of journal...

"Last time I checked, it was my turn to ask a question, Lady Vivian," he repeated her comeback. "What do you write in your journal?"

"Mysteries."

"What kind of-"

"My turn!" She interrupted. "How do I intrigue you?"

The boy immediately began to sweat. His chair suddenly became the hot seat. "I choose to skip that question."

"You can't do that," she chuckled.

"It's a free country. I do what I want," He stated. "Why are you wearing sunglasses when there is no sun?" He wanted to see her eyes.

Vivian looked away for dramatic "I'm doing it for the aesthetic. I'm an edgy, rebellious teen, you know."

"It's your turn, Vivian," Oliver smiled.

"I've run out of questions," she sighed. "Feel free to ask if you have any more."

And boy, did he have more.

"Why weren't you here for the past four days?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

"I was frustrated with you," Vivian admitted. "It annoyed me that I didn't know what you were thinking. I thought you had some kind of feelings for me, but I wasn't sure because you never approached me. So I decided to leave for a couple of days, then come back to see how you would be holding up," She gave him a sly smile. "Based on the looks of it, you've become absolute shit without my presence."

"Where did you go?"

Vivian visibly tensed, but quickly attempted to hide her discomfort. "I choose to skip that question, Oliver."

"You can't do that."

"It's a free country. I do what I want," she smirked, knowing she was using his words against him. "I really must be going now. You have one question left."

This was Oliver's final question. He had to make sure it was a good one. He had to make it count.

He could ask her on a date.
He could ask Her for her number.
He could ask if she liked him back.
But what came out of his mouth was something entirely different:

"It seems like you're always at the café. Why don't you ever sleep?"

"Because I don't want to. Why don't you?"

"Because I can't."

Vivian raised her eyebrow. "You can't or you won't?"

"I can't," Oliver repeated himself. "I have insomnia."

"Damn. Bummer," she replied. Vivian glanced at the imaginary watch on her limp wrist. "Well, look at the time. I must get going now. It was nice speaking with you, Oliver. Perhaps next time you will be the first to approach me, eh?"

Vivian then exited the café, leaving Oliver too stunned to speak.

Author's note
Mystery Girl finally has a name! I'm not a huge fan of this chapter, but this was a decent way to get to know the characters a bit. Now that our main characters have been introduced, what do you think of Vivian?