Click to Subscribe - By L. M. Augustine Page 0,13

me from all around. I straighten up, taking a breath. Then, with my eyes locked on the coffee shop door, I start walking to the girl of my dreams.

My pulse is pounding as I approach, and each step, each crunch of leaves underfoot, makes my ears ring and makes my whole body get tenser and tenser. I’m going to meet Harper, I tell myself. Oh my god oh my god I’m seriously going to meet her. In that instant everything that could possibly go wrong seems to race my through my head, and my heart keeps on thudding, thudding, thudding. What if she decides I’m too awkward for her? What if she hates me? What if she takes one look at me, laughs, and walks out? What if I screw up my one shot with her like I have everything else in my life?

I shake my head, trying to push away the bad thoughts because this is supposed to be a happy time, but they just keep coming back.

Above me, the sky is cloudy, and it looks vaguely like it’s going to rain. There are a few picnic tables bordering the pathway leading to the coffee shop, one of which is occupied by an elderly man reading a trashy romance novel. I grimace. There is something utterly terrifying about an old man reading those kinds of books. I half-expect him to turn out to be Harper in pedophilic form.

When I reach the old coffee shop door, I take one final breath, pull open the brass knob, and step inside, my heart pounding furiously, my mind racing with the possibilities, knowing that there is a good chance I’m about to meet Harper.

And… nothing.

I scan the coffee shop with my hands completely clenched, but aside from a bored-looking cashier and a twenty-something couple feeding each other marshmallows and giggling in a totally non-discreet romantic way, the place is empty. My stomach drops a little and I can feel the disappointment creep in already. I mean, I’m five minutes early, but I still hoped… that I could see her now, I guess. See her for real. Hoped I would not have to worry, to wait any longer for her.

I just want to talk to her already, face to face, so I can tell her how I really feel, so I can finally get it out. And yeah, I obviously want her to feel about me as I feel about her, but even if she doesn’t, just loving her is gift enough. She could hate me, she could run away and never come back and even though I’d be hurt, even though I’d spend my nights crying and lying awake thinking about her, it will all have been worth it, because I will have loved her.

Sighing, I sit down, my gaze on the front door. She’ll be here any minute, I tell myself. It’s both a terrifying and exhilarating feeling: that I could look up any second now and lay eyes on the girl I’ve been falling for all these months. My hands have not stopped trembling, and as I sit there and stare, it’s all I can do not to imagine what will happen when I see her. Will everything go in slow motion like in the movies? Will her face light up when she sees me? Will she run at me and jump into my arms, or just awkwardly walk over, nod, and sit down? And what exactly am I going to say to her, anyway? “Oh hey Harper, you’ve never even met me before in real life but I’m in love with you and will you marry and while we’re at it, let’s have kids together!” does not sound like the greatest plan. Then of course my back-up plan is, “uh… hi,” which also is not very smooth.

I close my eyes. God, what am I even doing here? It’s so much easier to talk through the internet than in real life. She’ll immediately realize what a freak I am and then I can kiss goodbye to all hope that I’ll ever be with her.

Gaaah. Was this a mistake? Did I rush it? No, I tell myself. She suggested meeting up. Not you. Clearly she’s interested. I take yet another breath. Okay. It’s okay.

After a while I lean back in my chair, listening to the sounds of the couple to my right, who are now done feeding each other marshmallows and have moved on to whispering into each other’s ears and kissing