Jess sat in his usual corner of the coffee shop, biting his pencil as his eyes darted towards the door again. This was becoming absolutely ridiculous. This was his workspace, but lately she’d been coming in with that giant notebook of hers and staking out the table in the opposite corner.

She was late today, and he was pissed that he cared. Then the door swung open and she was there, heading straight to her table without even glancing in his direction. She just sat down, smiled as she gave the waiter her order (three shot mocha), and pulled out that notebook of hers again.

He wanted to know so badly what was in that stupid book! What was in there that drew her back to that spot every single day to work on it? So many scenarios played through his head, of him sitting at her table, charming her with his sparkling wit as they sipped caffeinated beverages. She’d ask to read his script and show him what she was working on. But she never even looked his way.

So there he waited.

There was always tomorrow.