Impeccable haircut, young, attractive, expensive suit, we'll call him "the playboy". He walks into the coffee shop like he owns it. He might, who knows.

Bespectacled, cardigan, tablet, frail figure and clumsy manners, a worn out satchel on the seat facing her, we'll call her "the nerd". She stares at him.

He orders something expensive. She stands to go to the bathroom. He picks up his cup. She's walks past the counter. He turns abruptly. She walks right into him.

Spilled coffee.

"Shit!" he cries out. He's loud. Everyone turns.

"I'm so sorry," she blurts out. She tries to grab a napkin from the counter. Her hands are shaking. The dispenser clatters on the floor.

The playboy swiftly lays the sophisticated brew on the counter, squats down to pick up the dispenser and grabs a handful out in a succession of precise gestures. He wipes his hand with some of the napkins, inspects his suit. Not a drop. That's better. He throws the crumpled napkins on the counter next to his cup. Some fall back down.

By the time he took up his cup again, the nerd has returned the dispenser to where it belongs. "I'm so sorry." She repeats, "I'll buy you another one".

That seems to trip the playboy.

"Not a chance, Missy." He doesn't mention that only a little coffee got spilled. He checks her out. Takes in her height, her eyes (she lowers her gaze), her lips, her frame, her breasts. They're too close to inspect further but he seems satisfied with the first pass. "On the contrary. Let me get you one."

He gestures two fingers up to the clerk. That's not how it works. He's already ordered. If he wants more, he needs to queue again. But the clerk nods and goes back to the coffee machine. The playboy usually gets his way.

The nerd is still breathing too fast. She gestures him to her table when he asks. She doesn't need to go to the toilet anymore, it seems. She sits down with him.

He's leaning over, talking a lot, looking straight into her. She nods sometimes, shyly. By the time he's finished his coffee, she's handed him her number. He winks at her on the way out, she waves back with a timid smile.

As soon as he's gone, she stuffs her belongings in the worn satchel and leaves, eyes down on her smartphone, checking an app called NFC Reader.