I was finishing my lunch with a cup of skinny latte. My half-read book lay open in the sun.
Just as I was turning the page, a shadow loomed across the table. I looked up, right into the most gentle and addictive grey eyes.
"Are you reading that book?" he asked.
"Obviously," was the reply before I stopped myself.
"I've read his first book, and I reckon it was his best publication yet."
"Is that so.." This is getting nowhere. Awkward.
"I went out with his girlfriend before. Back in London."
My brows were raised behind my big shades, but I promptly nodded my head politely.
"I really loved his first book. But his girlfriend, well his ex, told me all these stories about how he's a pig, how he treated all the women he's been with. And I couldn't see him the same way again. It's just funny how his work shines through with integrity and great philosophy, yet in real life, he's a scum."
"Well, you wouldn't have known all that if you didn't go out with his girlfriend, anyway." I sometimes like to make things difficult for myself, I know.
He flashed a genuine smile. And I thought to myself; if he wasn't such a pig himself, I'd actually think of him as a very attractive old man.
"Well, enjoy reading. Have a good evening," he finished. As he turned behind me to leave, he squeezed my shoulder.
"You have a great day too," I chirped.
I smiled to myself and turned to steal a glance. He sat two tables away, facing me, grinning and sipping a bottle of Coke.