Page 68 of When We Meet Again

“Is this seat taken?” A deep, yet gentle, voice comes from in front of me. I drag my eyes from my overturned phone up to the man. He gives me a genuine smile, his eyes dark brown and black hair combed perfectly with gray peppered in on the sides—not a hair out of place.

“Sure.” What am I supposed to say? No? I look around and every seat is filled except the one in front of me.Maybe I should have called my mom.

“What are you reading?” He’s one of those. The kind of person who talks to someone when they’re reading. Those types are my favorite.Not.

I hold up the cover, staying silent, hoping he’ll get the hint.

“Ahh, right person, wrong time?”

I stare at him confused. “Have you read it?”

He laughs an endearing laugh. I’m sure if I wasn’t currently holed up in my apartmentbettering myself, I’d be interested in simple conversation. But he has piqued my curiosity, if just for a moment.

He takes a sip from his drink.Andrew.“No. It says on the front.”

That pulls a laugh from me. I check the front of the book, and right there in italicized letters it reads,‘Right person, wrong time…’

“Touché, Andrew.” I smile.

“Call me Drew, please. Last time I gave the barista my name, she wrote ‘Jew.’ Andrew is much safer for her job and my drinking coffee in public.”

I laugh again. He’s funny.

“Well, okay, Drew. Do you always talk to people when they’re trying to read?” I half joke.

“Nope. Just when I’m trying desperately to get to know someone,” he chimes, staring me down with his sparkling eyes.

He chugs another sip of his hopefully not hot coffee, and asks, “I know this is forward and soon, but I’d kick myself if I didn’t ask—would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Ha!” I place my bookmark in the book and put it down. “I’ve tried that before.”

“Just the one time?” He beams a panty-dropping smile.

I shake my head, unaware that I’m about to spill my life to a perfect stranger named Drew. “I’ve dated plenty. I was actually engaged until he died. Eventually started dating his brother until the dead guy came back from the dead.” Drew’s eyes widen and his mouth juts open.

“I always seem to be disappointed in the end, which is why I’m not dating right now.” I take in a shaky breath. “Just taking a break.”

He rubs his hand over the short hair on his chin, I suppose contemplating what he can possibly say tothat. “You’re obviously dating the wrong men if they are dying and then resurrecting,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Funny guy. Let me guess…you’re therightkind of man?” I roll my eyes. Just another typical dude trying to dip his pen in fresh ink. The tattoos on his neck peek out from underneath thecollar of his dress shirt while his ink-clad hands rest around his coffee cup.

“Nope. Never said that. I’m probably just as bad as the rest of them. But you won’t know til you try.” He polishes off his drink and tosses the cup in the trashcan a few tables away.

Good aim.

“Well, if I ever decide to date again, I’ll be sure to let you know Drew no-last-name.” I smirk, feeling feisty, and pick up my book again.

“May I ask you a question?”This guy doesn’t give up.

I glance at my book and back at him. “Sure. You don’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.”

A handsome grin forms on his face.Jesus.If only I wasn’t head over heels in love with a Huxley brother.

“What’s your favorite color?” he asks, eyes drilling into mine.

“B–” My throat is dry and I cough. “Blue.” Another smile.

He rummages through his briefcase. I don’t ask him his favorite color or anything about him.

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