The Cafe

I had just begun my sophomore year of college and was already stressing over the workload.
I didn't expect procrastination to be so easy, but as my college counselors would correctly say, no one is stopping you.
So, after tiring myself out writing an essay on the 13 virtues of Benjamin Franklin, I decided to treat myself to a coffee shop that had recently opened up nearby.
I sluggishly unlocked my car and turned on the navigation, finding my way to the semi-crowded parking lot after exiting the campus.
It seemed I wasn't the only person interested in an evening pick-me-up at the new shop, as shown by the mostly-filled booths I could see through the windows.
I took my time easing out of the car and into the cozy establishment.
I waited at the back of the short line and browsed the varied menu, deciding on a breakfast sandwich on a bagel-even though it was four in the evening, and a Frappuccino.
I quickly paid so the next person could order and stood off to the side, admiring the decor. The cafe had a calm vibe, with potted plants everywhere, large windows, and soothing tan walls.
After receiving my order, I quickly found a reading nook to sit at and started the vicarious activity of people-watching while pretending to work on my computer.
A cute couple to the left, a businessman to the right, and-"ding!" The bell on the door ringing drew my attention to the next customer, a young man with dark hair, a smile, and jeans faded in a way that would imply he was a farmer. He caught my eye, then pranced over to drop into the seat next to me.
"Occupied," I instantly commented, without diverting my attention from the laptop I quickly turned on. People were fun to watch from afar, but that was about it for me.
"By whom?" He questioned in a light tone. "The ghost of your grandmother?"
I sighed, then slowly turned my head towards him. "Welcome to this humble coffee table; how may I help you? Oh, wait! I'm not here to help you. So kindly leave."
"Woah woah woah, I'm just here to introduce myself and provide a little company to someone sitting by themselves, preferably without a ghost." He pointed to the air behind him as if he could sense the glare of some wraith behind him.
"I don't want it," I replied.
"What do you mean you're not looking for company? You're at a coffee shop! One of the top places to meet new people besides college...and it seems like we go to the same college," he said, snatching the keychain connected to my bag. "Not to mention you were totally checking me out."
"I was people-watching. People-watching! It's where you look but don't touch. You should try it sometime." I snatched my bag and the keychain away from him.
He raised his hands in mock innocence.
"Fine. I'll keep my hands to myself...for now." He took out a thermos and started sipping what appeared to be hot coffee.
"You bring coffee...to a coffee shop. Isn't that a little counter-intuitive?"
"Only if you haven't exhausted the menu. Besides," he said, before opening the lid and showing me the contents. "It's tea."
"Interesting. You aren't secretly a British spy, are you?" I quickly observed his oh-so-suspicious shirt and jeans.
"No, I'd much rather be a Russian spy-what kind of question was that anyways?"
"Have you never played a proper game of 20 questions before? Obviously, the point is to make sure the other competitor isn't half as bad as you are. And to make sure they're not terrorists."

"Competitor? Terrorist? Where did you come from?"
"The not-so-small town of Chandler, Arizona," I bowed, adopting a sweet southern accent.
"You do realize Arizona is just as southern as here, right?" He questioned what seemed to be my sanity.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. "Let's just say geography isn't my strong suit."
"So," he began, "what are you here for?"
I chuckled. "Last I checked we're at college, not a prison. I'm getting a Bachelors in Agriculture. Sophomore."
He feigned a suspicious look, then tsked. "How scandalous. A sophomore preying on a freshman."
"I suppose it would be strange; to hang out with someone lower. Do you even have a name?" I leveled a snotish sneer at him.
"Indeed I do. Alec." I gave him an imploring look. Alec Wilson, at your service, he answered, with a teasing note. "Shall I continue calling you a cougar? Or do you have a title of importance that goes with that?"
"Ellie, of the Southern Isles," I bowed mockingly once more. "Now that I've gotten my fill of people watching, and people in general, I have work to do." I gathered up my laptop and drink, having already finished the small pastry, and exited the cafe. Leaving behind any future thoughts or meetings with this stranger.
Or so I believed.