ch7 [date at the cafe.]

The next morning came slowly, as if the world itself was still taking a deep breath after the storm. The rain had finally stopped, but there was a lingering chill in the air, a softness that only rain could leave behind. Mark stood in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting his shirt for what seemed like the hundredth time. His reflection stared back at him, a little more nervous than usual. There was no denying it: he was about to go on his first date.

He had barely slept, too consumed by thoughts of her, wondering if this was all just a dream. What if he messed this up? What if he had misread the signals, and she wasn't actually interested? But even as those thoughts circled his mind like a storm of their own, he couldn't deny the pull, the excitement that had been growing inside him since he hung up the phone the night before. She'd said it was a date.

It wasn't a casual coffee between two strangers anymore. It wasn't a *we'll see how this goes* situation. No. This was a real, honest-to-goodness date. And for reasons Mark couldn't entirely explain, he was terrified and thrilled at the same time.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. It didn't help that he had no idea what to wear. Should he keep it casual, like he usually would, or should he put more effort into it, like it was something important? After several minutes of indecision, he finally settled on something simple but nice—dark jeans and a button-up shirt that he hoped wasn't too much but wasn't too little either.

There was something about the simplicity of this date that made everything feel surreal. Was this really happening? Was she really going to meet him?

He grabbed his wallet, keys, and phone, making sure everything was in order. The moment he stepped out the door, he noticed how the world seemed to have shifted overnight. The sun had broken through the clouds, casting golden light onto the wet streets. The air was crisp but still warm from the remnants of the storm, the scent of wet pavement lingering in the breeze. It was one of those rare mornings when everything felt fresh, like the world had just been washed clean.

When Mark arrived at the café, he felt his stomach twist nervously. The bell over the door jingled softly as he stepped inside, the quiet murmur of conversations surrounding him. The café was small, cozy, and intimate—just the kind of place that felt right for a first date. The air smelled of fresh coffee and baked goods, a scent that felt comforting and familiar.

He hesitated for a moment, scanning the cafe. His eyes landed on her, sitting by the window, the sunlight catching in her hair. She was alone, her eyes focused on the cup in front of her, tapping her fingers lightly on the table, a subtle sign of nervousness. There was a softness about her that made Mark's heart skip a beat.

For a moment, he stood there, taking in the sight of her. She looked beautiful in the soft morning light, the faintest blush on her cheeks from the warmth of the café. Her dark hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and even though she was sitting there by herself, there was something about her that made the room seem brighter.

Mark took a deep breath, his legs suddenly feeling heavier with each step. He had imagined this moment a thousand times—what it would feel like to be with her again, to talk to her, to see if the connection they had shared during their first meeting could actually go somewhere. But now that he was standing right there, everything felt different. More real. More intense.

His feet carried him forward, and then their eyes met.

She looked up at him, her gaze locking onto his, and in that moment, everything seemed to pause. Time seemed to stop. The world around them blurred, and there was just the two of them, standing in the middle of something bigger than they had expected. Her lips parted slightly as she smiled, the kind of smile that made Mark's heart feel like it might beat out of his chest.

"Hey," he said, his voice sounding a little more nervous than he intended. His hands were clammy, his palms sweaty, but he managed to keep his tone steady.

She returned his smile, her eyes lighting up. "Hey," she replied, her voice soft but warm. "I'm glad you came."

Mark smiled back, his heart fluttering in his chest. "I'm glad you invited me." He hesitated, unsure of what to do next, but then she motioned to the seat across from her.

"Please, sit down," she said, her voice like a gentle invitation. "I've been waiting for you."

Mark nodded and took a seat, his movements a little clumsier than he'd hoped. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but every part of him wanted to just enjoy this moment—to soak it in before it slipped away. But there they were, together, and it felt like the most important thing in the world.

The waitress came over to take his order, but Mark could barely focus on the menu. All he could think about was her. How was she feeling? Did she feel as nervous as he did? He couldn't tell. She seemed so composed, so at ease, and yet there was something about the way her fingers tapped on the table, the way her eyes kept darting to his, that told him she wasn't entirely sure either.

"So…" Mark said, his voice breaking the silence that had settled between them. "How was your morning?"

Her eyes met his, and she smiled softly. "It's been good, actually. I woke up a little earlier than usual, just to make sure I wasn't running late." She paused for a second, clearly choosing her words carefully. "I wanted everything to be right. I've been looking forward to this."

Mark's heart skipped at her words. 'She was looking forward to this too.' That made him feel a little less nervous, though the butterflies in his stomach didn't quite go away.

"I'm glad," he said quietly. He let out a soft laugh, a little nervous, but the sound was comforting. "I was a little worried I'd mess this up."

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes softening with understanding. "Mess it up? Why would you think that?"

Mark shrugged, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment as he searched for the right words. "I don't know. I guess it's just… I've never done this before, you know?" He laughed again, a little self-conscious. "Not like this. I just want to make sure it goes well."

For a moment, there was silence. Then she reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against his hand. The simple touch sent a jolt of warmth through his body, and he looked up to find her smiling at him, her gaze tender.

"It's okay to be nervous," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. "I am too, but just a littel."

Mark's chest tightened, and he smiled, genuinely this time. The tension between them melted just a little, enough to make everything feel a little easier.

"So," she continued, her voice brightening as she leaned in slightly. "What's your idea of the perfect rainy day?"

Mark paused, thinking. "Well, I guess I like to go for walks when it rains. I know that sounds a little strange, but something about it feels calming. The sound of the rain, the smell of wet earth—it makes everything feel peaceful. Like the world slows down for a minute."

Her eyes softened. "I like that," she said quietly. "I think I'd like that too."

Mark's heart warmed at her words, and the conversation began to flow more easily. They moved from topic to topic, each moment more comfortable than the last. They shared stories, jokes, little things about their lives that made them feel more real to each other. He found out she liked to read—mystery novels, The shadow of blackwood manor was her favorite—and she learned that Mark had a knack for Novel writing, he isn't a famous writer but he has written some novels to end.

As the minutes passed, the connection between them deepened. The awkwardness faded, and all that was left was this sense of something bigger than either of them had anticipated.

"Do you want to go for a walk later?" Mark asked, the question slipping out before he even realized he'd said it.

Her eyes brightened, and she smiled, a genuine smile that made Mark's heart race. "I'd like that," she replied softly.

The waitress brought their coffee, and they continued to talk, the hours slipping by without them noticing. Every moment felt like it mattered, like it was leading them to something deeper, something real. As they exchanged stories, their laughter blending with the sounds of the café, Mark couldn't help but feel like this was the start of something amazing.

When the conversation turned to their favorite movies, she leaned across the table slightly, her voice dropping to a playful tone. "So, if we ever watched a movie together, what would it be? I need to know if we're compatible."

Mark grinned. "I'm definitely more of a comedy guy," he admitted. "Something lighthearted. But I guess it depends on the mood. What about you?"

"l like to go for romance," she said with a wink. "But, honestly, I can watch anything if I'm with the right person."

Mark's heart skipped a beat. The way she said it, so casually, yet with such sincerity, made everything feel so… real. She wasn't just saying the right words. She meant them.

"That sounds perfect," he said softly, feeling his chest tighten with emotion. "I think I could be the right person."

****

A/N: the next chapter is going to be more interesting.

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