Ch. 1 - Meeting Jamie

His eyebrows furrowed over his chestnut-brown eyes as he stared back at me in confusion.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't have asked him in such a sceptical way, but he looked like he was in his early twenties at the most, and I didn't like getting my hopes up for nothing.

To be honest, I rarely got my hopes up when it came to guys, but I was still a woman at the end of the day and I would be lying if I said that I wouldn't want a guy like him smiling at me like that on a regular basis.

"I'm twenty," he finally answered. "Is that a problem?"

I let out a small groan. "Probably," I said.

"Because?"

Well, for starters, I'm almost fifteen years older than you, also ... "I don't think you're trying to get with someone who has a teenage son."

"Stop it," he said with a small laugh.

"What?"

"There's no way you have a teenage son. Did you have him when you were ten?"

"Wow," I said, smiling, though I wasn't too sure how to take his comment. "I don't know if that's a compliment or a low-key insult."

"It's a compliment," he replied quickly. He combed his fingers through his long, black hair before propping his elbow onto the countertop and resting his chin on his hand as his eyes slowly took in my features.

I gave a small smile and turned my gaze elsewhere, his eyes were too intense to look into, as if he was searching for the hidden answer to an unsolvable clue.

"I wouldn't have guessed over twenty-two," he said.

His statement drew my gaze straight back to his. He sure is good at flattery, I thought, deciding that was all it was.

"Try adding ten," I said.

Wow, he mouthed while holding his gaze directly on me as his smile grew until his incisors showed.

His smile was contagious and I couldn't hold my own back no matter how I bit down on my lip to restrain it.

My face was hot and, if the lights had been any brighter, it would be clear it was also red which was only bound to get worse if I allowed myself to fall into a teenage fantasy about myself and the beautiful stranger that was staring at me the way he was.

I looked back across the hall, towards the stage and tried my best to focus on the porters setting up the mic and equipment. It was poetry night and the reason I was at the coffee house. The first act would be coming on stage soon; it was a twin brother and sister act that I'd heard before. They had a unique style where they completely contrasted, yet complemented each other as they delivered their poetry.

A hand waved in front of me and reminded me that he was still there. I hadn't even gotten his name though I'm sure he said it when he approached.

"You still haven't told me what drink you'd like," he said when I turned back to him.

"You still wanna buy me a drink?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Okay, I guess, I agreed internally. There isn't any reason for him to not want to buy me a drink. It is a poetry night, after all, he might just want company. Unless he's one of those weirdos who thinks it might be nice to bed an older woman. 

"I'm not into one-night stands," I said bluntly.

He gave a small snort before dropping his face into his hand, but his shoulders bounced quickly as he laughed, silently. After at least half a minute, he inhaled a deep breath and lifted his face back up, revealing only his eyes as he kept his mouth covered and watched me for a moment longer.

He was still smiling and looked completely amused rather than offended or embarrassed, which I initially thought he might be. I just hoped my own amusement wasn't showing so obviously after experiencing the cutest laugh I'd ever seen a guy do.

"You are way ahead of me," he said, after straightening himself back up in his seat. "I wasn't even thinking of that far into the night. I really love spoken word and I saw you with the brochure so I figured you were into it too. I just thought you'd be cool to talk to."

Way to go, I scolded myself. He must think I think way too highly of myself now.

"It's cool though," he said. "I know they say guys only want one thing."

Yeah, they do, and in my experience, it's usually true.

"Not me," he continued. "I just wanted someone to sit with while I watch the acts."

"I'm sorry," I said, starting to feel like a complete jerk. "I guess I'm a bit defensive. Hot guys don't usually talk to me unless they want something."

"Hot guys?" he said, his shoulders shaking again in a silent laugh.

"I mean ...," Oh God! "Can we ... start this whole thing again, please?"

"So," he said after a short nod. "What would you like to drink?"

"I'll have a cola, please."

He turned to Owen, the barista, and ordered two colas before turning back to face me, resting his head on his hand again; a position that felt much too relaxed for the situation, or was I just being finicky? I couldn't be sure so, in case of further embarrassment, I went along with it.

"I'm sorry," I said, apologising for the second time already. "I didn't get your name."

"Jamie. And yours?"

"Veronica."

"Nice to meet you."