Second Chance
"Hey, let me get that for you," someone calls, and Meg hears someone hurrying down the steps to get the door for her.
"Thanks," she starts to say, and then stops in surprise as she recognizes him. Or thinks she recognizes him. But even if you only speak for a minute or two, a guy who calls you "luminous" and asks if he can photograph you . . . he kind of makes an impression.
Anyway, if she had any doubts, his reaction when he reaches the door would have laid them to rest. "Oh my God, it's you," he says. "I mean, hi. I . . . you just looked like you needed a little help. With the door. And the crutches and all."
"Yeah, thanks."
He doesn't make any move to actually open the door, though. "So, out of curiosity, if I take your advice and start by asking if you want a cup of coffee this time, do you think you might say 'yes'?" And before she can answer, he continues, "I'm really not a creep, I promise. And I don't usually ask total strangers out, on streets or in foyers, but there is something about you."
Meg smiles almost in spite of herself. "Luminosity?"
He grins and blushes slightly. And he's cute, there's no denying that. "I probably deserved that. Little over the top, huh?"
"Little bit," she tells him. "And, um, it's . . . the timing is just really bad. Sorry."
"Why's that?"
Meg shrugs. "I broke up with somebody yesterday. I'm kind of . . . I don't know . . . just . . ."
"Heartbroken?" he asks, and she can kind of tell he's afraid she's going to start crying or something.
"Um, not even a little bit, actually."
He smiles. "Then I'd say my timing is good. Yesterday, or the day before, that would have been bad. But today . . . hey, this is twice we've run into each other now. Don't you think fate might be trying to tell us something?"
"I don't really believe in fate," Meg tells him.
"How about if I believe in it for both of us?"
"Then you are going to have to believe we are fated to run into each at least one more time. Because today my answer is still 'no.'"
He nods. "Till next time, then," he says, and opens the door for her. She's maybe five feet down the sidewalk when he calls, "Hey, at least tell me your name."
Meg looks back over her shoulder at him. "It's not much of a challenge for fate, if I do," she says, and smiles at him. "Au revoir, monsieur, et bonne chance."
"Thanks," she starts to say, and then stops in surprise as she recognizes him. Or thinks she recognizes him. But even if you only speak for a minute or two, a guy who calls you "luminous" and asks if he can photograph you . . . he kind of makes an impression.
Anyway, if she had any doubts, his reaction when he reaches the door would have laid them to rest. "Oh my God, it's you," he says. "I mean, hi. I . . . you just looked like you needed a little help. With the door. And the crutches and all."
"Yeah, thanks."
He doesn't make any move to actually open the door, though. "So, out of curiosity, if I take your advice and start by asking if you want a cup of coffee this time, do you think you might say 'yes'?" And before she can answer, he continues, "I'm really not a creep, I promise. And I don't usually ask total strangers out, on streets or in foyers, but there is something about you."
Meg smiles almost in spite of herself. "Luminosity?"
He grins and blushes slightly. And he's cute, there's no denying that. "I probably deserved that. Little over the top, huh?"
"Little bit," she tells him. "And, um, it's . . . the timing is just really bad. Sorry."
"Why's that?"
Meg shrugs. "I broke up with somebody yesterday. I'm kind of . . . I don't know . . . just . . ."
"Heartbroken?" he asks, and she can kind of tell he's afraid she's going to start crying or something.
"Um, not even a little bit, actually."
He smiles. "Then I'd say my timing is good. Yesterday, or the day before, that would have been bad. But today . . . hey, this is twice we've run into each other now. Don't you think fate might be trying to tell us something?"
"I don't really believe in fate," Meg tells him.
"How about if I believe in it for both of us?"
"Then you are going to have to believe we are fated to run into each at least one more time. Because today my answer is still 'no.'"
He nods. "Till next time, then," he says, and opens the door for her. She's maybe five feet down the sidewalk when he calls, "Hey, at least tell me your name."
Meg looks back over her shoulder at him. "It's not much of a challenge for fate, if I do," she says, and smiles at him. "Au revoir, monsieur, et bonne chance."