I smile shyly at him across the counter of the cafe where he works. He greets me warmly, recognises me as "Isobel's friend" and takes my order quite nonchalantly. I stare at him longingly and smile over-enthusiastically, but he doesn't seem to notice, just smiles that dumb, good-looking-guy smile and walks away. Ironically, Isobel would know just what to do in this situation. I twirl my frizzy hair around my right index finger, and cringe as I spot myself in the mirror behind his head, from that distance he's unable to see my chipped purple nail varnish, but he'd be able to decipher my stupid-but-sultry expression a mile off. I stop with the twirling. He walks over to my table, glass of coke in hand. Last chance to be sexy... I lean over the table and squeeze my shoulders together in order to push my breasts inwards, creating an undeniably huge cleavage. His eyes are averted for a moment from the task at hand. Consequently, as he places the over-filled glass of coke on the table, his hand is surprisingly unstable; the three ice cubes bob atop the brown liquid, and half of the drink is spilled perilously close to my ivory chest. I smile reassuringly in response to his flushed cheeks as he wipes the coke from the table.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." he stumbles over his words, "I was a little distracted."
He shakes his head apologetically, as if trying to banish images of me from his timid mind. It worked.
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