I grin and try to figure out how to best continue. I end up texting:
Friendly like we went to grade school together and always got along but weren’t close, but now we’re adults and I bumped into you on the street and we were both like, “Wow, we should catch up sometime, let me give you my number.” And now we’re nonchalantly texting.
There’s a bit of a pause after that, but the telltale dots soon reappear.
That backstory was so convincing, I actually thought it was real for a second. Keep going.
Keep going? Feeling emboldened that he’s encouraging my weirdness, I let my fingers fly across my phone with comfortable excitement.
It was Saturday. I was out getting coffee. I had old leggings and a sweatshirt on because it was laundry day. You were listening to headphones but pulled them off when we physically bumped into each other. Turns out you were late to a friend’s birthday brunch, but you didn’t mind because you actively hate the concept of brunch.
He starts typing again:
I mean, it’s either lunch or breakfast, right? Pick a side.
I’m in the throes of selecting the perfect assortment of food and laughing emojis when he texts again:
That was a very immersive experience, by the way. Was I just the subject of an elaborate writing exercise?
I quickly answer back:
To a playwright, all the world’s a writing exercise.
My head darts up then as Juliette and Roshni walk out onto the sidewalk beside me. I look ahead to find that the driver is directly in front me and that I somehow missed his arrival.
Duty calls. Good night, Liam.
Good night, Winnie. I’m very glad you came to London.
I manage to shoot out one more text before sliding into the car after Juliette.
Me too.
5
I’m now on day three of my trip to London as I find myself sitting in a cozy café awaiting the arrival of British Boyfriend #2. I figure the quicker I book these meet cutes, the quicker I can hit my dating quota and be done with it. The space itself is lovely, dusted with twinkle lights and playing soft jazz, the scent of coffee filling the air. I’m sitting at a small table with my laptop open as I try to sneak in as much writing as possible. Roshni and Juliette are keeping an eye on Ollie in the penthouse, so I was even able to leave early. I’m just trying to figure out how to rework the opening scene when the sound of someone saying my name pulls me out of my flow.
“Winnie?” the vaguely familiar voice asks. I look up to see Liam standing above me, looking surprised but pleased. “What are you doing here?”
“I...” I honestly don’t know what to say, but that doesn’t last long. It never does with me. “I could ask you the same question. Wait, did you follow me here? Is this the part of the movie where my vacation takes a hard left turn intoTakenterritory? Because even if I come off as initially intriguing, I promise it’s surface appeal only. People always get sick of me over time. I hum a lot. Like, a lot, a lot.”
“Okay. Well, that’s a no to the stalking inquiry, considering I get my coffee here every morning.”
“A likely story, but how do I know that it’s true?”
Liam’s expression is both amused and determined as he turns to look over at one of the baristas. “Morning, Tom,” he calls across the room.
The barista glances back with a smile. “How goes it, Liam? You want a large or medium today?”
“I’ll take a medium, thanks.”
Liam faces me again with an air of victory, but I’m not ready to concede. “That easily could have been staged.”
“Really? You think Tom has been lying in wait all morning, pretending to work here so I could stumble in and pose as a regular?”
“I know a method actor when I see one.”
“Right.” Liam chuckles, pulling back the chair across from me and sitting down.
