Her look is for you, if she turns.
Follow her. Do not stray too close, but hint. See where she leads. Go into the coffee shop, there is nothing to be afraid of, let your body guide your mind. Go. Sit down across her—there, that table—but to the side. Do not pretend to read [i]Travesty[/i]—enjoy her eyes tickling your skin. Return the favor—and when she looks, do not turn away. Get up, say, “May I?”
Sit. Allow the exictement of fear to take over. See it for what it is. Sit and do nothing but examine. The question will come, just, sit. Smile back. Ask her name. Ask her if she vistits this library often. Ask her if she would like some coffee, give both of yourselves time. Let your heart race, it feels good, doesn’t it? Feel the pulse of life rush throughout your body. Not that far, it isn’t time. Get the coffee. Look back, once. Smile.
Buy a piece of cheesecake. Take a chance, surprise yourself. Bring back two forks. Say nothing about the cheesecake; place it on the table, in the center. Tell her the book called your name—you started reading and the fast pace left you enchanted. Describe a scene: three people in a car, the driver tells them he is going to crash the car with all inside. Observe her pupils enlarge as you describe Anette. Talk about Anette as if you spoke about her. Describe what about Anette intrigues you. Smell the coffee before you drink. Listen to the music. Comment on the song, and sit and listen to the jazzy voice carrying you to France. Go to France. Let your body pulsate to the rythyms of the base. Take a small piece of cheesecake and taste the intoxication of the physical. Say nothing.
Move closer in your chair, put your knee against hers, and do not briskly move away. Move your knee a little to the left, now move it back. Allow her to feel the heat of the flesh before you pull back. Now give her a small smile, and an innocent, boyish, grin. Tell her you loath trivialities, without using the word loath. Now, tell her, “Yet it is often trivial things—gestures, even, (you add, reflecting)—that I live for." Drink your coffee as she takes a piece of cheescake. Do not watch her; feel her movements with the vibrations playing on your skin. Ask to have a look at her book. Ask her if she would mind if you read the first chapter. Read the first chapter, but first pass your book.
Ask her what she thinks about your book. Tell her that they all die in the end. Of course, note that that is what brings them to life. Feel your heart race. Yes, tell her that your heart is racing. Put your hand atop her own. Gently pull your fingers across her knuckles. Pull back your hand and take a sip of coffee. Ask, “What happens in our story?”
But you know, the space must be bridged. Tell her, no, whisper. Signal to her ear and whisper… Now brush your skin against her cheek as you fill the distance. Remember the scent of her hair. Look at her body language: observe that she is young and looks a little afraid. You are in love, of course. Ask her what pace the story takes that she lives? Alright, ask for a pen.
Tell her to write her number in her book. In your book, write what you desire most about Anette. Leave only your name and a destination. Write. My number is 917-406-3039, when I call, I shall say, “Anette?” Reply with only a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ I shall call tomorrow evening. If it is a yes (and I hope it is) meet me within Ellington Park beneath one of the alumnin trees at Eight. When I come, we shall not speak, only kiss. Where the story goes from there, our bodies will tell.