Tell me how to love you

She was sitting at a small table by the window, looking exactly as she had in his memory: relaxed, warm, with that quiet presence that somehow made everything feel a little more grounded. She was reading a book, her fingers absently tapping the edge of the page as she turned it. A soft smile played at her lips, but when she saw him, her expression shifted—familiar, but warm, as if she'd been waiting for him, and genuinely happy to see him.

Mark froze for just a moment, standing still at the threshold of the café. She hadn't seen him yet. For a second, his mind reeled, and the familiar doubt crept back in. What if she thinks I'm awkward? His chest tightened again, but then he noticed something—something simple, but real. The way her eyes lit up when she saw him. How her posture softened as she set the book down and stood, that easy movement that made him feel just a little less self-conscious.

He swallowed hard, forcing his feet to move. He made his way toward her table, his steps slow, each one heavy with the weight of his thoughts, but there was no turning back now. He had to do this. He had to make it through the next few moments, just like the countless others he'd overthought but still survived.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little quieter than he'd intended, but it still came out with sincerity. He saw her smile widen as she looked at him, and for a brief moment, the nervousness melted away. It wasn't gone, but it was manageable now.

"Hey, Mark," she said, her voice like a quiet melody that soothed some of his tension. "I'm glad you made it."

He nodded, forcing a smile despite the nerves crawling up his spine. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it."

She gestured to the chair across from her. "Have a seat. I ordered for us already," she added, and Mark blinked in surprise. The thought of her already thinking ahead made something warm stir in his chest.

"Really? You didn't have to—" he started, but she cut him off with a playful shrug.

"Well, I figured if you're as indecisive as I am about coffee, I'd save us both the trouble." She winked, and for a second, the nervousness in Mark's chest dissipated completely. Her confidence—her ease—was contagious.

Mark sat down slowly, the chair creaking beneath him, and glanced around for a moment, trying to ground himself in the environment. The café was familiar enough, with its mix of regulars and the steady hum of activity, but his focus kept snapping back to her, to the way she was looking at him, like she genuinely wanted to be here, wanted to see him. And for a moment, he felt something settle in his chest, something he hadn't realized was missing: the sense that maybe he wasn't completely alone in his uncertainty.

The silence stretched between them, but it didn't feel awkward. It felt comfortable, like two people who hadn't quite figured out how to communicate everything they felt, but were still willing to try. Mark's hands were still slightly clammy, and he instinctively wiped them on his jeans, then glanced at the coffee on the table.

"So," he started, clearing his throat. "What are you reading?" He gestured to the book she had just set down.

"Oh, it's this collection of short stories I've been meaning to finish." She glanced at the cover for a moment. "It's a bit all over the place, but I like it. Kinda like life, you know? Unpredictable, but somehow connected."

Mark nodded, intrigued. "Sounds like the kind of book I'd probably pick up and then never finish," he said, laughing softly at himself.

"Well, I'm hoping I'll finish it before the world ends," she said with a small, knowing smile. "You know, just in case we run out of time."

Mark couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound coming easier than he'd expected. The tension between them shifted again, melting away just a little more, like ice under sunlight.

They talked for a while after that—about books, about work, about all the small things that seemed so trivial but felt somehow important in this moment. The conversation was slow and unhurried, the words flowing with a kind of natural rhythm that Mark didn't expect, but was grateful for. Each time he glanced at her, there was a subtle warmth in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before. It made him feel like he wasn't as alone in his thoughts as he had feared.

But as the minutes passed, a familiar feeling returned, one that had nothing to do with his anxiety, but everything to do with something he'd hoped for. As they laughed about a ridiculous story she told about her dog eating an entire loaf of bread, Mark felt his heart open up just a little more. The worries about saying the wrong thing, about being too much or not enough—they didn't seem so loud anymore.

And then, unexpectedly, she stopped laughing, just for a second, and her gaze softened.

"You know," she said quietly, leaning in just a little, "I'm really glad we decided to meet again. I wasn't sure how this would go, but... I'm really enjoying this."

Mark blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. Something in him shifted, as if the ground beneath him had just become solid in a way it hadn't felt before. She's here, he thought 'She wants to be here.'

"I'm glad too," Mark said, his voice suddenly steadier than he expected. He paused, a warmth spreading through him, something deeper than the casual comfort of the conversation. "I think... I think I've been looking forward to this more than I realized."

Her eyes met his, and for a long moment, the noise of the café and the world outside seemed to fade. There was just the two of them, sitting in a quiet space between words, between moments, as if the past few days of wondering and worrying had led them to this moment, this small but significant space where maybe—just maybe—something real was starting to take shape.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Mark felt a glimmer of hope. It wasn't a grand gesture or a bold declaration—it was simpler than that. It was just a feeling. A quiet certainty that, for whatever reason, maybe this time was different.

Maybe this time, things would be okay.

***

A/N: you can't say it is boring all dates are like this.

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