Demi Lovato Imagines

The Window Seat

You were surprised, to say the least, when you entered the coffee shop that afternoon, not to see the woman sitting in the window seat, with her usual medium coffee, reading a thick paperback. You were sure you were later today - thinking she would have already arrived to bag the prized table they both hungered for. 

This charade had been going on for a few weeks now. One day, when you entered your favourite cafe, you were taken aback to see this woman curled over herself, in your seat, that you had sat in every Thursday after classes for the past 6 months. You had even been suspicious that the baristas had reserved it for you especially after seeing you so frequently. But those thoughts were dashed as you stood awkwardly by the door, trying to figure out how to recalculate your body to, I don't know, maybe sit somewhere else you moron, it's not a big deal!! 

And that was the first day you saw her. Her. You still hadn't found out her name. All you knew was that she was astoundingly beautiful and that you both appeared to have the same Thursday schedule - as you saw each other at the cafe every week. At first, it was kind of awkward. You had begun to walk a bit faster after class in order to secure the window seat - your favourite reading spot - and then watch as she walked in moments later, smirking as she saw your red face and breathless demeanour while you tried to recover from the extra cardio. Some weeks, you weren't so lucky as you pushed the door open to see her comfortably engulfed by the armchair already, leaving you to find another table to study over. 

It was one of those things that you had definitely left it too late to go and introduce yourself. Now it was more like a running joke.

You had even memorised exactly what she ordered and what time she had to leave by. 6:10. On the dot. You would watch as she began to check her watch every couple of minutes the closer it got to 6 as if she would miss the minute hand passing its threshold. You would watch as she efficiently tucked her book into her satchel, shrugging her coat over her shoulders, and swiftly stride to the door, leaving you to wonder where she was going and who the lucky person is that she is living with...

You had considered following her one day. But getting convicted of stalking was not one of your priorities in the senior year. 

So anyway; now you were left, on that Thursday afternoon, in the prized window seat, sitting on your hands to warm them up from the bitter cold outside, and trying to distract yourself from your impending coursework by hypothesising where this mysterious woman may be.

***

It's been two more weeks. And she still hasn't shown up. At first, you felt embarrassed at how much you had thought about her. Tossing and turning at night in fear that she had moved elsewhere and that you would never see her again. Questioning whether she had maybe switched days so that she came another time in the week. Considering different names that fit her appearance to see if, by some miracle, you could find her facebook.  

And then it happened.

Chewing the end of your pencil absentmindedly, vacantly staring at the rows and rows of words and diagrams on the table in front of you, you were knocked out of your thoughts as you heard the door of the cafe open, letting a breeze blanket over everyone inside. Raising your eyes slightly to look at the new customer, you almost swallowed your writing utensil as you watched her step inside and head straight for a table at the other end of the floor. Even from the distance, you could see her bloodshot eyes and tear stained face as the sat stiffly at the free table, wringing her hands in her lap. You cast a glance to the baristas at the till who weren't bothered by the fact the woman had sat down without buying considering the rush of customers arriving at the end of a busy workday.