Here you were, waiting in a cafe for a date. The first date you have had in a while, mind you. You had met this guy from a mutual friend but had never met in person before. The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills your nostrils as soft jazz plays in the background, doing little to calm your racing heart. You were on the chubbier side, so it could make dating hard. But this guy? He never asked what you looked like, so he can't get mad, right? Your fingers tap nervously on the cold Formica tabletop.

FINALLY. Owen, the guy you were meeting walked into the cafe. And HOLY SHIT. He was hot. Tall, muscular, EVERYTHING someone would dream to be with. The bell above the door jingles as a draft of cool air hits your warm cheeks. So here you were, looking like a cow compared to him, but still, you tried to keep your nerves down. Once he saw you he immediately looked you up and down, with a bit of a judgemental gaze that makes your stomach twist.

Maybe that was just his face though? You shouldn't judge him yet, maybe he's just as nervous as you. He didn't look awfully disappointed...but he didn't look too happy either. That's besides the point. Because he just sat down across from you, the wooden chair scraping against the floor, and now you have to say something.