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All I knew for sure was that she didn’t seem like she was too interested in anything I had to say, since she was already looking down at her sandwich again.
This was awkward.
Deciding I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, I finally turned to leave as I told her, “Well, see you around. Thanks again for finding my book.”
I wasn’t used to this happening. Usually girls hung on to my every word. Confused, I wondered if maybe she thought I was someone else, or maybe even that she had heard some rumor about me from a scorned ex. I knew how girls could make guys out to be jerks when they’d been rejected by one of us.
What I did know was that I couldn’t just leave it at that. I would figure out a way to run into her again and ask her to hang out sometime. There was just something about this girl that made me want to know her. She was a mystery to be solved, and Dylan Porter was up for the challenge.
* * *
That evening, when practice finished, most of the guys were talking about heading over to Ethan’s place to hang out and drink some beer. I told them I’d swing by there after running home to change clothes.
On the walk toward my apartment from the campus bus stop, I walked down the sidewalk right across from the university. The various shops and restaurants were all busy with students who congregated in them, including the Daylee Grind, which was a little family-owned coffee shop.
The Daylee Grind seemed like a pretty chill place to do some studying, but I’d never personally been in there. Not that I couldn’t have used a little more studying from time to time.
As I walked by the front windows that spanned the entire store front, my eyes honed in on a petite figure with long, brown hair and big, blue eyes. She was sitting tucked away at a table right by the outer glass wall.
It was Zia. Now was my chance. I had to go in and talk to her.
I walked into the coffee shop and approached her table, waving to a couple of people I knew on the way. Zia seemed pretty engrossed in her studying and didn’t seem to notice me walk up.
“Zia?”
She looked up at me in surprise. “Hey… Dylan, right?”
“Hey
, I thought that was you. I was just passing by the window and saw you. I just got out of practice,” I explained.
“Practice?” She looked puzzled.
“Yeah. I play in a soccer league. Didn’t you know?” I wasn’t used to people not knowing who I was around here. I wondered if maybe she had just moved here or something, which would explain why I’d never seen her around before.
“I guess not. Did you come here to study?” she asked as she looked at the book bag I was carrying across my shoulder.
“Well, not really, but it seems like a nice quiet place to get a little homework done. You mind if I join you? It doesn’t look like there are any more tables open,” I reached for the empty chair in front of her, but I didn’t want to assume she was okay with me just taking a seat, in case she really did have a boyfriend or something. If not, then she definitely had the playing-hard-to-get routine down.
“Sure, why not,” she responded as she glanced around the room. She seemed surprised at the crowd that had apparently accumulated while she hadn’t been paying attention.
I pulled out the chair and sat, sitting my book bag on the table in front of me and rummaging through it to see what homework I had brought home with me today. I brought my algebra homework out that I’d been studying earlier that day before lunch.
Once I got situated, I looked up and decided to see if a little small talk would bring this gorgeous girl out of her shell. “So what are you working on?” I asked her.
“Oh, I have a paper I’m working on for Social Psychology,” she answered. “You?”
“I have some algebra homework I need to do. You any good at math?” I joked with a smile.
“Eh, I get by. Probably not math tutor material, though,” she admitted as she cracked a smile of her own.
That seemed to be the ice breaker she needed, because the conversation flowed easily after that.
While we were sitting there talking together, several people came by to say hi to me here and there, and it eventually occurred to me that she might be worried about people seeing her here with me if she had a boyfriend. As pretty as she was, by this point I was convinced she must have one, but partly out of concern and partly out of curiosity, I asked her, “You don’t have a boyfriend who’s going to get pissed that I’m here hanging out with you, do you?”
“Um, no… It’s no big deal.” She paused for a short moment as though contemplating her next thought. “So what’s your story, anyway? I saw you the other night at the Book Shelf. You seem like you have quite a selection to choose from,” she jabbed playfully as she raised her eyebrows suggestively for emphasis.
I couldn’t hold back a laugh.
