4. Four
Four
Arnold
S aturdays were usually reading days, so I brought my novel, just in case. Today I was reading Twin Flame by Kassia Devane. I loved dragons, and she brought them to life. Usually, I'd be engrossed by now, but... today, my heart skipped a beat. I fingered the edge of my book, not reading a word. Just waiting.
There she was. I knew it was her; it had to be. I was the only one here. Her deep brown eyes swept the room before she looked down at her phone. I knew those eyes, even though we'd never met.
She didn't see me yet. My foot tapped an erratic rhythm on the tiled floor. Was it too late to run? She was gorgeous. All curves. Short little thing. Her Superman shirt strained against her bosom as her tummy jiggled with each step she took towards the counter. Yummy.
"Arnold?" The barista called out. My hazelnut latte, but I couldn't move. If I didn't acknowledge her, I could slip out of here. I was no match for this goddess in front of me.
"Hello? Arnold." She held the latte out. "Your drink?"
My feet shuffled against the floor as I watched the tiles whizz underneath me. I'd never been ashamed of my name until now. Arnold. I grabbed my latte off the counter and looked up, grimacing at the barista.
"Hey," Angel said, standing behind me now. Her hand, light and uncertain, tapped my shoulder.
I swiveled around. Our eyes met. Hers, wide with nervous excitement; mine probably screamed 'help.'
"Hi," I managed, my voice cracking like I'd time-traveled back to puberty. "You're... you're here."
"Yep, it's me. I'm Agatha... nice to officially meet you." Her cheeks flushed pink, the color of cherry blossoms. Even the tips of her ears turned red. "You must be Adonis."
"Arnold," I corrected quickly, wishing I felt half as confident as my phone persona. "I'm just Arnold."
"Nice to finally meet you, just Arnold." She grinned, and I smiled back despite the knot in my stomach. This was happening. This was really happening.
We found a quiet corner, chairs scraping against the floor as we settled in. Her knees were inches from mine under the table. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. Too close? No, just right.
I wrapped my hands around my cup, the warmth seeping into my palms. Took a sip. Bitter, strong. Grounding. I'd be wired soon, but I hoped it would untangle this bundle of nerves that had settled in my belly. It usually did, but sometimes it gave me the runs. It was a toss-up. I hoped today wouldn’t be the day I’d be hugging the porcelain throne with the Hershey squirts.
She did the same, pursing her lips as she blew on the hot liquid. Watched it ripple. Then, a small sip, a nod of approval. She'd poured half a cup of milk in hers; it was probably lukewarm, but the way her leg bounced the table, I'd say she was nervous, too.
"Good coffee," I ventured, hoping my voice didn't crack again.
"Really good," she agreed, her eyes flicking up to meet mine.
We drank. The silence wasn't awkward—not exactly. It was expectant, like a woman in labor.
She set her cup down. I noticed her fingers, long and delicate, fiddling with the sleeve. Her eyes met mine, and she turned red again, the light dusting of freckles standing out against the pink of her flesh. She was absolutely adorable. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to find something to say.
I fidgeted in my chair, the wooden legs creaking under the shift of my weight. Across from me, Agatha's eyes darted around, avoiding direct contact. Our hands were like statues on either side of our coffee cups.
"Um, so..." she began, her voice trailing off as if the words had decided to take a detour before reaching her lips.
"Bookstores," I blurted out, desperate to fill the void. "They're... nice."
"Right, yes. I love books." Her fingers toyed with a strand of hair, winding it around and then letting it go. "All those pages and, um, words."
"Words are great," I agreed, too eagerly. My leg bounced beneath the table, and I pushed down on them with my hands.
"Especially when they, you know, make sentences." She dropped her head in her hands and shook her head. Her laugh escaped a short, self-deprecating burst.
"Sentences are good. And paragraphs." I reached for my cup, hoping the action looked natural. "Can't forget those."
"Paragraphs," she echoed, a smile tugging at her lips despite the awkwardness of our conversation.
I took a sip, buying time, wishing words came as easily to me as they did when I was alone with my thoughts. But there, in front of Agatha, everything tangled up inside.
"Books have always been," I paused, searching for the right words, "friends, sort of."
"Me too!" The relief in her voice was palpable. "Like, they don't get mad at you or anything."
"Exactly." For a moment, our gazes locked, and I saw the same yearning in her eyes that often kept me company during long, quiet nights. The need for escape. For adventure. For connection.
I leaned back, the chair creaking under my weight. Agatha's fingers fiddled with the napkin before her, a ballet of nerves I knew all too well. "So, uh, I've got this collection," I started, voice barely above the hum of the coffee grinder. "Comic books."
"Really?" The crease between her brows eased.
"Vintage ones. Superman, Batman... the classics." A small grin broke through as I pictured my shelves at home. I also have those bobbleheads for each one, but I didn't mention it.
"Wow, that's pretty cool." Her smile widened, and she leaned in. "I'm more of a Wonder Woman fan myself."
"Nice choice." My heart did a little flip. "She's... yeah, she's awesome."
We both reached for our coffees, hands brushing. It was an electric jolt, but I pulled away too quickly to make it count.
"I also dabble in video games." I rushed the words out before shyness could clamp my mouth shut again.
"Which ones?" Her voice lifted, curious and warm.
"Mostly RPGs. Worlds you can get lost in for hours." I saw recognition flicker in her eyes.
"Me too. I love the stories they tell. Characters you can't help but fall for." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and my gaze followed the movement.
"Exactly." I took another sip, feeling the coffee heat me from the inside out. We were finding common ground, which was shaky but there.
"Have you ever played—" She started.
" Chronicles of Arden ?" I finished for her.
"Yes!" She clapped her hands together, a short, happy sound accompanying the action. "I knew you'd be into that one."
"Spent way too many nights on it," I admitted, cheeks warming.
"Same here." She laughed, like a key turning, unlocking something tight inside me.
"Guess we're both a bit nerdy, huh?" I said, not sure whether to feel embarrassed or proud.
"Best kind of people, if you ask me." Her grin was infectious, and I found myself mirroring it without even trying.
"Can't argue with that." The words came easier now, as if the dam had broken and all that was left was the flow.
We talked about everything and nothing—heroes and villains, pixels and potions. It was strange how talking about other worlds helped us navigate our own, two shy souls inching closer with every shared passion.
"I once tried to bake a cake in the shape of a book. Turned out more like a misshapen blob," I explained, my hands illustrating the sad lump. "I'm still not sure what I did wrong."
"Abstract art," she offered, and we both laughed.
People rushed by our table, a blur of colors and hurried steps. We stayed still in our bubble. She told me about her cat, Mr. Whiskers, and how he'd only play with socks, real toys be damned. I shared the time I accidentally locked myself out wearing nothing but pajama pants and had to climb through a window.
"Good thing it was your own house," she said, eyes wide.
"Wouldn't want to make that headline."
Her laugh. Like music. Unexpected. Infectious.
"Ever tried sushi?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Food or coding language?"
"Both?"
"Neither." I smiled, feeling the odd sensation of comfort creeping in. Sushi was one of the best programs for decentralized markets. A bridge, so to speak. I'd been dying to try my hand at incorporating it into my own crypto adventures, but I hadn't had the time.
The coffee shop's hum grew louder, a distant soundtrack to our conversation. Cups clinked. Doors opened and closed. But the noise didn’t touch us. We agreed to play truth or dare, knowing we were both too shy to ever pick dare.
"Your turn," she said, leaning forward, elbows on the table.
"Truth or dare?"
"Too soon for dares." Her smile was a challenge, one I wanted to get lost in.
"Fair enough."
"Truth it is."
"Okay, truth..." I was a bundle of nerves. Something told me that Agatha didn't mess around and went straight for the ace in a hole when it came to digging.
"Ever been in love?"
"Oof." And there it was. My hunch was correct. My heart skipped. "Nope. You?"
"Once thought I was." She shrugged, gaze dropping to her cup.
"Love's a tricky beast."
"Or just a myth."
"Could be." I nodded, not wanting to push too deep, too fast.
"Your truth," she prompted.
"Scariest moment?"
"Spider in the shower. Yours?"
"Everything." It slipped out, honest and raw. I was everything except strong, if I was being honest. I was one giant baby. Needles? Terrified. Going white water rafting? I would rather die. Honestly, there wasn't much I wasn't afraid of. It was embarassing, but my entire life I'd taken the necessary steps to be cautious. To weigh the pros and cons of each situation, which is why it was rather surprising that I'd taken such a large leap and met with Agatha on a whim. What if she was, like, a murderer or something?
"Deep." She reached over, her hand brushing mine. "Life can be really scary sometimes."
"Right." I pulled back, cheeks heating up.
"Hey, no worries." She retracted her hand, tucking her hair behind her ear again.
"Thanks."
"More coffee?" She glanced at her empty cup with a sigh.
"Sure." I stood, eager for the distraction, legs stretching after sitting so long.
"Same again?" I asked, stepping away.
"Please." Her eyes followed me to the counter.
Ordering felt mechanical, words coming out rehearsed. Two coffees, same as before. I paid, avoiding the barista's curious look. Back at the table, I slid one cup in front of Agatha, the heat from the drink warming my hand.
"Thanks." Her fingers brushed mine as she took the cup.
"Anytime."
We sipped in silence, comfortable. Easy. I never had that before. Never knew conversation could flow without me tripping over every word. With Agatha, the pauses felt right. Not awkward. Not forced. Just two people sharing moments between sips of coffee.
The sun peaked and dipped. I glanced at the empty cups between us. I was on a high. A buzz not just from caffeine but also from her. My Angel. The final drops of coffee clung to the ceramic-like reluctant goodbyes.
"Wow, time really flew," Agatha said, her eyes dancing with the same surprise I felt.
"Like it sprouted wings." My laugh came out more breath than sound.
We stood together, the chairs scraping softly against the floor. A silent agreement hung in the air, neither wanting to break the spell of our first encounter.
"Guess this is it for now?" Her voice wavered, a tremor of hope beneath the words.
"Seems so." I shoved my hands into my pockets, feeling for something to fiddle with. Found nothing but lint and nerves.
She reached for her bag, hoisting it over her shoulder, her movements slow, deliberate. Her eyes met mine, held them. We were two magnets; polarity flipped, drawn, and yet not touching.
"Today was..." She trailed off, biting her lip, the curve of her smile fighting through.
"Unexpected." My heart hammered a staccato rhythm, the thrill of connection mixed with the ache of departure.
"Good, unexpected?" Her eyebrows arched, teasing.
"The best kind."
"Then let's do it again?" The question hung in the air, a kite caught in a breeze.
"Definitely." My nod was a bit too eager, but I didn't care. "Let's. Here's my number; text me if you want."
And just like that, we edged towards the door, a ballet of hesitant steps and sideways glances.
"Take care, Arnold." Her hand brushed against mine, a spark that lit up my insides.
"Same to you, Agatha." I wanted to say more, to tell her how she made the usual unease fade into the background noise of the cafe.
We stepped out; the city sounds rushed in to fill the space our voices left behind. The door closed with a gentle jingle, a soft curtain on the scene.
I watched her walk away, each step a promise of unwritten chapters. A story I wanted to be part of. And as I turned to head home, a smile played on my lips, one that spoke of beginnings, not endings.