I bluster into the cafe, sighing in relief on the inside as a blast of cool air hits me.

It's been a demanding day — and the day is not yet over.

With the 6pm deadline gnawing at the back of my mind, I hurriedly put my bags down on the first available seat.

Alas. My papers spill out from one of the bags, no thanks to the haste I was in.

Visibly irritated, I bend to gather the materials.

Lady Luck was not on my side, as the cafe's doors open once more, sending in a gust of wind that scatters the papers.

As I proceed to snatch them off the floor, more impatient than ever, my head collides with something. Hard.

This is really not my day.

Looking up grouchily, I see a boy around my age, with his palm to his forehead.

He sheepishly hands me a slim stack of papers.

Seeing that he was only trying to help (and the fact that he was reasonably cute didn't hurt), my frown softens and I mumble an awkward thanks.

"No worries," he says, his voice a smooth tenor.

I struggle to respond with something friendly, but freeze up instead.

Great.

Flashing him a quick smile that I hope didn't look too painful, I proceed to to the cashier to order my caffeine fix.

45 minutes later, at 5pm, my coffee is left with foam, but my essay is far from done.

I casually noticed that the guy who had helped me was still in the cafe.

Sitting diagonally opposite me, he appears to be engrossed in a book, without much care for his surroundings.

Just as I was going back to my essay, a figure plonks himself at my table, right across from me.

I look at him quizzically.

Is he trying to sell me something? I have no time for that.

Before I could say anything, however, he introduces himself.

"I'm Logan," this random person says, and extends his hand.

Thinking it would be rude to reject it, I shake it apprehensively, and withdrew my own hand as fast as possible.

"I just noticed you from over there, and thought you looked really interesting," he continues.

Ok…?

"So… I was thinking…. maybe we could get coffee sometime? Since you clearly drink it," he says, glancing at my cup and laughing rather smugly at his own joke.

Er. How about no?

I force a polite smile.

"Thanks for asking, but I'm really busy these days. I actually have a 6pm deadline to deal with right now," I reply, hoping he'd get the hint.

"Oh, cool, what are you working on? Are you a student or are you working?"

Welp. He clearly did not get the hint.

"Um…. it's an essay…"

I really didn't want to get into the details.

"What topic are you writing about? Maybe I could help you."

This is getting uncomfortable. I just want the conversation to end, pronto, so that I can get back to my essay.

I look around the cafe, desperate for a means of escape.

"Uh..." I trail off. What topic would he least likely be interested in? Feminism? Rocket science? Critical thinking in the age of technology????

My darting eyes land on The Guy Who Had Helped Me Picked Up The Papers, and in that moment, he lifts his gaze as well, and we lock eyes for a moment before I look away.

Unperturbed by my hesitation, Logan teases, "Aww, is it a top secret? Will you have to kill me if you tell me?"

I feel like killing him, alright.

"Actually," I say, gathering my courage to bite the bullet. "I'm sorry, but I'm really not free to talk right now. It's this essay, you know."

Still trying to be polite.

Logan's smile drop a notch.

"Aw, c'mon, it's just coffee aight. How about this, what's your Instagram username, I'll add you and we can set up something from there."

"Sorry, but I don't add strangers as social media friends," I say, firmly but kindly.

I could see Logan getting a teeny bit flustered and riled up now.

Oh dear. This is not good.

"Why not, huh?"

I scrabble to think of something that won't set him off.

Just as the tension was mounting, I see The Guy Who Had Helped Me Picked Up The Papers unfolding himself from the chair and heading in my direction.

I look at him uncertainly, but he his eyes were deliberate.

"Hey, are you almost done?" he says when he reaches my side.