new

Fugly.

Shit. He didn't mean to think that--what kind of asshole judges a stranger with a made-up word that lazily sums up the intent of fucking ugly? But it was undeniably the first word that popped into his head when he saw her.

Leave.

That was the second word.

Why was he even here? Suddenly this secret-blind-date-sexy-stranger-no-one-has-to-know-fantasy had lost its charisma. But there she was, sitting in the agreed-upon armchair at the far right corner of the coffee shop. And she had already seen him anyway. Alright dickhead, let's get this over with.

"Hey."

"Hey! Glad you could make it."

"Yeah, well, it's not every day that you see your description in one of those ads."

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd find it. My friend kinda made me do it."

"Oh. Well, I have a girlfriend, anyway."

"Oh. Do you always look at personal ads when you're dating someone?"

"Uh, no. I don't know. I guess I was bored. I don't know. Sorry, I guess I'm wasting your time here."

"No, I mean, whatever. It's just cool to meet new people sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Sometimes you just need that, I guess."

Dusk had descended by the time he left the coffee shop.