of this—but believe me when I say that I find you pretty. I see you now; you’re hunched over at your table doing some sort of DIY art project. I hope you had a good jog/run this morning! I like running during the fall season; the air is crisp and cool, and a cup of Joe after makes everything perfect. Maybe we could run together sometime if you’re open to the idea. I’ll stop here—I’m running out of space so the words are starting to cram together. Mind if I move over and join you at your table? Give me a wave if I’m welcome. C. Hawke Well, how forward of him. It’s easy to tell who C. Hawke is. There are very few people in the coffee shop this morning and hardly any of them are paying me any attention. Of course, C. Hawke just has to be this handsome, dark-haired person with a killer smile that belongs on a movie star’s face. Sometimes, it bothers me how unaffected I am by such charming approaches. His ridiculously forward attitude intrigues me, however. “What are you waiting for, an invitation?” Mr. Movie Star chuckles as he moves to sit next to me. It’s not fair how someone can look so refreshed at seven in the morning while the rest of us look like drowned rats after a jog. “Well, I did ask you for one,” he replies cheerfully. “Thanks for not making a scene by throwing my note back in my face, though.” I snort. “Do I look like the dramatic type to you? I’m sitting here in my sweats gluing stuff to a giant notebook. That’s not dramatic at all.” “It could be if you wanted,” he points out. “My name’s Caleb, by the way— Caleb Hawke.”
80
The Alkaline Affair
| first love