From his unenviable place in line, he could almost see the girl behind the counter. He hadn't expected this large of a crowd at this time of day, and had been surprised to have to quicken his step to beat the lady in the business suit. She had that "large order" look about her. Since he was only there for himself and not for an entire office, as most of these people seemed to be, he felt justified in his attempt to out-maneuver the new wave of customers that seemed to rush in as he opened the door. He actually regretted the decision to stop by this place on his way to work, but having only noticed the crowd once his hand was on the door, he felt a certain obligation to go in.
Now, five minutes into this ordeal, he felt trapped. His agitation grew – at the low buzz that emanated from the crowd of people occupying the tables, the loud cackle of the overly happy cohorts a few places ahead of him (probably so happy because of their advanced place in line), and even the warm jazz sounds that filled the room. For the first time, Ella's scatting seemed almost undeniably to be mocking him. His only hope for a reprieve was the newspaper rack a few feet away. Straining to see through the crowd between him and his planned distraction, he was crushed to see the rack empty. He really shouldn't have counted on his luck suddenly turning, he thought. This day was simply not going to be a very successful one.
He checked his watch again. Another three minutes had gone by without him getting any closer to his goal. He didn't really need to hurry—his hours at the office were very flexible, and decided mainly by him—but giving the illusion of having little time was his specialty. He enjoyed being seen as a man on the go.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he spotted an attractive girl taking a seat at a nearby table. She was with a friend—a female—who was sitting with her back to him. He thought he saw the one facing him—the attractive one—look right at him. Of course, he was probably wrong. Still, if he had to be stuck in this place with absolutely nothing else to distract him, he might as well entertain the fantasy. He looked back—casually, trying not to seem too interested—directly at her. She smiled. That can't be good, he thought. Well, "good" – yes, but there must be some mistake. Attractive single women do not just smile at him. Maybe he misread something. He looked at his watch and quickly glanced up, making sure his movements didn't seem at all out of the ordinary. He didn't want to give the impression that he was actually looking for any sort of reaction.
She was deep in conversation this time, but must have been watching him, since their eyes met as soon as he looked up. She smiled again. Ok, now that was unmistakable. She was interested. In him.
And why wouldn't she be? He was a better than average looking, well dressed, sophisticated man. At least he had always thought so.
He made the unnecessary gesture of pushing his hair behind his ear. Uncertain at moments like these, he couldn't escape the reflex of empty, automatic movement. Maybe he should go talk to her – that is, if he ever gets to place his order. What would he say? How should he start? What if their conversation just doesn't flow? He certainly doesn't want to stand there, babbling like an idiot to fill the horrible silent gaps left by a conversation between two people who have nothing in common. That brought up an important point. What if they simply don't have anything in common? They can't last on physical attraction alone. It could even be worse. There could, conceivably, be something actually wrong with her. After all, what was it Groucho Marx said about any club that was willing to have him as a member?
He couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to him before. Why must all potentially great loves end in tragedy? He regretted even more the decision to come here.
Dismayed, he resigned himself to his fate in what he now decided was a line formed only to torture him. He had almost forgotten what was at the end of it; he just knew that if he didn't make it there soon, he would...
He was distracted from his thoughts of spontaneous combustion by a sudden outburst of laughter – from the very girl he flirted with earlier. He hadn't expected her to be capable of being so loudly obnoxious. Still, he wondered if maybe she was just trying to get his attention. Maybe he had been too judgmental to dismiss her so quickly. The possibility exists...unless – of course! The two were talking about him! And laughing no less! How could he have been such a fool, to entertain the idea that he at last found a girl—completely by accident—who was attracted enough to him to make the first move.
Seething—quite insulted by the whole experience—he turned toward the front of the line in time to see that he was next. It couldn't have come at a better time, as he had now decided never to engage in social interaction at another over-priced, over-commercialized, yuppie magnet of a place again. He practically threw the money at the girl behind the counter, after growling out his order, and stepped aside to await his reward.
Walking out of the place—at a pace that could qualify as a slow jog—he glanced down to see a girl sitting at a table near the door. She smiled. He smiled back. As the door swung closed behind him, he smiled to himself. That could have been a love connection, he thought, getting into his car.
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