She had a look in her eyes that I'd never seen before. I couldn't tell you what it was, but I knew how it made me feel—on edge, stripped naked, and trapped.

It was exhilarating. I wanted to run as far away from her as possible just as much as I wanted to stay. Nothing had ever done that to me before. I wasn't sure what to make of it. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do.

So I settled for staring back at her. I tried to figure out what she was thinking, what she was feeling, but her face was just as confounding as her eyes. And she sat so still that she could have been a statue. I didn't think she'd blinked since we'd sat down. It was weird. It was fascinating. I wanted to reach out and touch her just to make sure she was real. I wasn't going to, but the urge was still there, strong enough to make my fingers twitch.

And noticeable enough to catch her attention, apparently

Her gaze snapped down to my hand and then back up to my eyes. It happened in less than a second. Didn't matter. That was all it took for me to become hyperaware of how my forearms and hands were splayed across the table while her hands cradled her coffee cup, her elbows tucked neatly against her ribs. Only her wrists rested on the table's edge. I frowned and slid my arms down to my lap.

She let out a noise softer than a snort, the first sound she'd made since ordering her drink. The look in her eyes had changed, too. Before they had pierced, now they glinted. I didn't understand.

I realized I wanted to.

So I asked: "What?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, a tiny yet precise movement. "You're just not as…composed as I remember."

I blinked. "You thought I was composed?"

She shrugged and raised her cup to her lips. I found myself watching the way she pressed them together after taking a sip. She noticed. I looked away, feeling my body temperature increase a few degrees.

"Are you okay?" she asked. There was an odd tone to her voice. It took me a second to recognize it as amusement, and the realization that she enjoyed seeing me squirm was fuel on the fire. I couldn't remember a time in my life when I'd felt this self-conscious.

Perhaps that was why I was honest with her.

"Not really," I said.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm nervous. You are making me nervous."

"Oh?" she said, lifting her cup again. But not to drink. To hide the smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That's interesting."

I stared at her. Had I missed something?

Probably. That was the only explanation for why I felt this lost and confused. It wasn't normal. Of course, neither was this day. If it had been, I never would have run into her.

It was pure chance that I'd remembered mom's birthday was in a few days just as I'd driven passed this bookstore. If I hadn't, I never would have stopped. I never would have gone inside. I never would have paced through the aisles, scanning the shelves, becoming so distracted by my inability to recall what mom liked to read that I didn't notice her sitting on the floor.

If today had been normal, I never would have tripped over her.

And, if she hadn't cut off my apology by saying my name, I never would have looked close enough to recognize her.

It had taken me a moment, but not because her appearance had changed. At least, I didn't think it had. To be honest, though, I wasn't sure I was correctly remembering what she had looked like back in high school. It had been five years and she hadn't been someone I'd noticed that often. The times that I had, her face had been hidden behind a book.

But reading seemed to be the only thing she had in common with the quiet, unobtrusive girl from my memories. I doubted that one would have been capable of the direct look this one had given me as she'd asked what I was doing.

Maybe the shock of that was why I had told her. I didn't know. Our encounter was a bit of blur, even though it had happened less than half an hour ago. I just remembered somehow ending up following her through the store and watching with growing curiosity as she had taken random books off the shelves, read the synopsis, and had either put them back or handed them to me.

And maybe that was why I had offered to buy her something from the café. You know, to repay her helping me out.

If I hadn't, then we never would have been sitting here now, staring at each other. I never would have known someone—she especially—could make me feel so unsure of myself. I never would have known that I kind of liked it.

I hadn't been in a situation like this before. It was new; it was different. I had no idea what was happening and it was thrilling.

That realization helped me get it together enough to finally ask why her making me nervous was interesting.

Her answered surprised me just as much as her laugh.

"Because," she said, "you used to make me nervous."

"…what?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you didn't know."

"About what?"

"The humongous crush I had on you all throughout high school."

Her tone was nonchalant and conversational, not at all what you'd expect it to be with a confession like that. Which was why it took a second for her words to register with my brain.

When they did, I fell back against my chair. I watched her blinked at me a few times before she let out another laugh. Unlike the first one, though, it was louder, more real, and accompanied by a grin.

"Oh," she said. "I guess you didn't."

Then, without hesitation, she reached across the table and tapped a spot underneath my chin. It made me realize two things: One, her hands were cold despite the hot drink she was holding. Two, I was gaping at her like an idiot.

I didn't know what to do with the first thought; it was so arbitrary and odd, it baffled me. So I put it aside for the moment and concerned myself with the second, closing my mouth and glancing away.

"Oh," I said. I frowned when I heard how weird my voice sounded and cleared my throat. "That's…interesting."

It was a lame response, but what was I supposed to say? Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. Of all the things she could have told me, I never would have expected it to be that. So I thought I had a right to be a shocked for a moment.

She didn't seem to agree.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" she asked. Her casual tone reassured me that she wouldn't be offended if I said yes.

The thing was, I wasn't uncomfortable. A bit anxious, somewhat bewildered, and strangely curious? Yeah, sure. But not uncomfortable. Not even a little.

I told her that.

But her immediate response of "Okay. Then why won't you look at me?" made it clear she didn't believe me.

Probably because she was right. I'd made a point to look everywhere except for her in the last couple minutes. I grimaced and slid my gaze back to her face, only to be confronted with the reason I'd been subconsciously avoiding it.

She had that look in her eyes again. The one that made me feel nervous and cornered. But there was more to it than that. There must have been or I wouldn't have been having such a hard time with this. Something else was happening here, I just didn't know what.

And then it hit me.

"Were you always this intense?" I asked her.

She blinked and cocked her head. It made me think of the curious way a hawk or owl might look at a mouse as it decided whether or not to eat it. And she was giving me that look—like I was prey. I blamed that as to why my pulse suddenly quickened and for the goose bumps rising on the back of neck.

"I don't understand what you mean," she admitted after a moment had passed of us just sitting there, staring at each other.

"Just—you're intense. The way you're staring at me, it's…" I struggled to find the right words to describe it without sounding stupid or embarrassing.

It was impossible. No matter the phrasing I tried out in my mind, it didn't worked. I wasn't about to tell her that the way she looked at me made me feel vulnerable, like she was seeing straight into my soul. There was a good chance all that would do was make her laugh at me.

So I settled for shrugging and smiling.

"Sorry," I told her. "I guess I don't really know what I mean either."

She stared at me some more, scrunching her eyebrows and pursing her lips together. A soft, brief hum followed not long afterwards. It told me nothing. And despite how hard I searched her face and eyes, I couldn't tell what she was thinking or feeling.

It was frustrating. More than I would have ever imagined. I mean, here she was, with a look I swore meant she could read my mind and a severe, straightforward demeanor that contradicted everything I knew about her. Granted, I hadn't known much before, b—

Oh.

So that wasthe problem.

Huh, I mused. That's…interesting.

"What is?"

It took me longer than it should have to realize I'd voiced that last thought aloud and she hadn't actually read my mind. I rolled my eyes at myself while I smiled at her.

"Just that I don't know much about you," I said.

"Okay," she said, dragging the word out. "And?"

"And I think I want to."

For the first time today, I could read her expression. Watching her eyes slowly widen and her face flush was more enjoyable than I would have thought. And it was amusing to see that shock could make her look more like the girl I remembered.

The realization that I found it—that I found her—attractive was also nice.

But her silence was starting to worry me.

I waved my hand in front of her eyes. "Hello. Anyone there?"

She reared back in her chair, frowning at my hand like she didn't know what it was. Then, her eyes narrowed and she slid her gaze to my face.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But that sounded almost like…like…" She shook her head, her eyebrows scrunching together. "Like you were asking me out on a date or something."

"Yeah, well. That's because I kinda was."

"…oh."

She blushed again and looked away, her eyelids fluttering as she struggled to process that information. That was when I noticed how long her eyelashes were. I stared, fascinated, becoming so distracted I almost overlooked the fact that she hadn't given me an answer. I snapped out of it and leaned around the table so I was in her line of sight.

"So?" I asked. "What do you say?"

"Eh."

"Eh? Wow. Thanks."

"No, that's not—fuck." She huffed and tossed me an apologetic smile. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"Um. Well," she said, her smile turning sheepish. "I don't know."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't know what you mean or you don't know if you want to go on a date with me?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure about that either."

She pronounced sure like shore. It was probably the most trivial thing I could have noticed, but it deepened my interest. What was just a random impulse to know more about her now was a necessity. I needed to know why she said it like that, if there were any other words she spoke with an accent, and if it was deliberate or unintentional.

From the way she was acting, though, it didn't seem like I would have the chance. I was surprised at how disappointed that made me feel.

But she hadn't explicitly said no yet. Maybe there was still hope that I could convince her.

So I smiled in a way a few of the other girls I'd been had told me was charming. And—

And she took one look at it, turned bright red, and then burst out laughing, burying her face in her hands. Not the effect I had intended. At all. I tried not to be offended, but it was hard.

She must have picked up on that because, a second later, she dropped her hands so she could look at me. Her eyes were apologetic, but that didn't mean much when she was still giggling.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But you have no idea how fucking weird this is for me. I have imagined this scenario literally a thousand times and the fact that it's actually happening?" She shook her head. "I can't believe it. It's fucking insane."

"Insane in a good way?" I asked. "Or in a bad way?"

"Uh, well. It's hard to tell. Like the part of me that's still the sophomore girl head over heels besotted with you is freaking out, hyperventilating and shit, and that's cool, I guess."

"And the 'right now' version of you?"

She thought about it—like really thought about it. I could tell from the way she suddenly blinked and then frowned, pressing her knuckles to her lips. It was also in the way she stayed silent for nearly five minutes, and in how slow and deliberate her words were when she finally answered me.

"The 'right now' version of me thinks that, in this particular moment, she cannot make a well-informed decision about whether or not she should go on a date with you. She also do not believe you are well-informed enough to even ask her out on one."

"Okay. Then how about we sit here and gather the information we think we need over another cup of coffee?"

"What? Like a pre-date?"

"Yeah."

She blinked. Then, she smirked in a way that somehow managed to be mischievous and coy at the same time. It was the perfect balance of the timid girl I remembered and the confident one I'd spend the last hour with. I felt my stomach swoop, like I was free-falling. But not in a bad Shit, I'm going to die sort of way. It was more of anexhilarating, adrenaline rush, roller-coaster This is awesome feeling.

But it was nothing compared to how I felt when she gave me her answer.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "That could be interesting."