This is part of an ongoing series. Start with Part 1.
We met up at a little local donut shop I'd never been to.
Kind of funny — meeting someone who, like me, is a native of the metro area, yet has been to spots I've somehow missed. I got there a few minutes before 8 a.m., but I always do. Partly because I hate being late, but mostly because my nerves won't let me be the second one to arrive. I ordered a latte, found a small table near the window, and sat down.
That nervous waiting moment is always the worst. I kept looking out the window and pretending to scroll on my phone, like I wasn't compulsively checking the time since I'd left the house.
Then I saw him.
He was walking up the street toward the shop and instantly my heart started racing. That rush of anticipation mixed with anxiety — I could barely think. I glued my eyes to my screen, acting like I wasn't looking up every five seconds. He walked in, came right up to me, and we exchanged hellos.
He noticed I already had a coffee and asked if I wanted a donut. I said, "Sure, surprise me." He came back with two donuts and a latte. I don't even remember exactly what they were — though I'm pretty sure one was a maple bar, which became an inside joke later, and the other might have been chocolate with sprinkles. I don't usually eat sugar, but I wasn't about to say no to a sweet gesture like that.
What stood out most wasn't the donuts or the coffee. It was where he sat.
He slid into the seat next to me — on my right side. Not across from me like I expected. The place had tables and chairs with a booth along one wall, so I figured he'd take the chair opposite. You know, like people do. But he didn't. He sat beside me.
That sent a message.
It wasn't aggressive. It was just confident. Familiar. Like someone who liked me and wasn't afraid to show it.
I don't remember what we talked about — and isn't that strange? I remember the feeling. The ease of it, how we laughed, how the conversation bounced naturally. I remember his presence. His body language. At some point he shifted closer, and I felt his arm around me — or maybe on my shoulder, I can't quite recall the exact moment — but it felt bold. Assured. Not creepy. Just, again, confident.
It was clear he liked me. And honestly, I liked it.
We sat there for nearly three hours. Again. Just like the first date.
Eventually he had to leave for work. We walked outside together, reached that weird end-of-date limbo where you're both trying to read the other person, and he casually pointed to his cheek and gave me a look. Silently asking for a kiss.
So I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Inside I was mortified and self-conscious.
It was a small moment. But it stuck with me. Playful. Sweet. Direct.
He told me to text him when I got home — just like the first time. I did. He always said that. It was endearing. It made me feel like he cared.
Throughout the day we kept chatting. Memes, internet rabbit holes, whatever was floating around online. He asked if I'd gone to Bible study. I told him I'd watched the Wednesday night service online — my church does a deeper mid-week dive, something I mixed between in-person and virtual depending on how I felt.
Then, kind of out of nowhere, he messaged: "Wanna talk?"
And here's where I played myself.
I replied with, "Haven't we been?" Because in my head, we had been. All day. Talking.
But what he meant was talk talk. Like, on the phone.
My dumbass just completely missed it.
Part 4 — His Apartment, coming next.