[fanfiction] - Adam Carlson's POV of the Love Hypothesis

pumpkin spiced convos

Not-so fun fact of the day: 

Holden was correct. 

Not in the overall sense he would've loved to be correct, as in 'always and every time' but in the very present sense of 'it is majorly important what you'll order at starbucks'.

I stare at the menu printed above the baristas heads, busy behind their corner and try to make sense of it all. I really think the English language was never fully prepared to expand to those ridiculously detailed lengths when it comes to one simple beverage and that is why they had to dip so deeply into others, mainly italian and what I indentify as 'failed french'. 

Tahitian Vanilla Iced Mocca-Frappucino definitely does not sound like something that entails coffee. Also, if it does, its truly fascinating, that not one of the five (FIVE) words, they needed to describe the drink, is - in fact - the word coffee. 

I'm early. Not overly early, it's just a couple of minutes early, something I always do, if I can manage it. It's a matter of politness. Being on time is a question of priorities. That said, I really try to ignore the fact, that it is 'on time' in about 30 seconds, yet Olive is nowhere near to be seen. And I do have a very good look outside of the shop thanks to metisculously cleaned windowrows that allow anyone outside to have a good look inside - and vice versa. 

No, there is no Olive in sight, but I am, in very prominent sight, standing here, a bit off queue, trying really hard to not look as off kilter as I feel. This place is NOT my comfort zone, but it defintely is the comfort zone of a variety of curious eyes, all belonging to my students. 

Eric Potterman ist here, sitting with a girl, unbeknownst to me, therefore I conclude, that he, by chance, is also on a date, just as I am (about to be, considered Olive will eventually show up)

A brief glance back to the ridiculously big clock next to the menu tells me that we're already one minute after our appointed time, but I have no time to contemplate this tardiness and it's potential meaning, because a splitsecond later a whirlwind of hasty movements crashes through the door, her cheeks tinged with a pink blush, her flustered overall appearance kind of settling the moment her eyes spot me. 

And spotting me they do just fine. 

It takes some muscle strengths and tense concentration to appear absolute unaware of her lingering stares. How her eyes crawl all over my body as if she's never seen me before in her life. And I do know that there is no coincidental stain on my Henley, nor a weird crinkle in my pants, because I obnoxiously triple-checked my wardrobe before leaving the office for this date. 

And then she smiles, a tight one, that looks a tiny bit forced and I respond with what I hope is a calming nod, a nod telling her, that everthing's alright and she can relax. Hopefully she does. Hopefully she does relax, because I can't keep this uptight composure for longer than... another thirty seconds. at best. 

This was a mistake. It hits me, again and again, that I should NOT be surprised anymore, that this sentiment is a recurring one. I have already established the practical baseline of this here: 

It IS a mistake, but against all odds, I WILL continue. 

"So. How are you?" Her question gets pressed out between two hasty inhales - I conclude, that Olive Smith has just RAN here to be on time. And somehow, magically even, this revelation calms something deep inside my guts, calms my own nerves and this tension in my shoulders loosens up to an almost relaxed degree. 

"Fine." I contemplate for a millisec if thats the right time to elaborate. If this was a real date... would I elaborate? Tell her about the avalanche of emails I received this morning due to Hammersteins jubilee pub and any contributions from me, my team and my cohorts. But that would be overkill, wouldn't it? That would be far to intimate, loading her up with all my small-scale bickerings and routines and ... and I swallow all of that in a big gulp of cinnamon-scented starbucks-air and instead press out: