Tell me how to love you

The café was bustling with soft chatter, the clink of spoons against ceramic mugs, and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. Outside, the rain had stopped, but the sky was still heavy with gray clouds, threatening to return at any moment. Inside, however, the warmth of the space contrasted with the damp chill of the world outside. It was almost like a cocoon, a small, comforting bubble that kept all the uncertainties and worries at bay.

Mark sat across from Emma, his hands wrapped around the warm mug of coffee she had ordered for him. The steady hum of conversation around them felt distant, like background noise to the moments they were sharing. He couldn't stop smiling. It wasn't the kind of smile that felt forced, or one born out of politeness. No, this was different. This was the smile that appeared without any real effort, the kind that surfaced when you found yourself exactly where you wanted to be. And right now, Mark was exactly where he wanted to be—sitting across from Emma, feeling the weight of the day's worries dissolve into the simple joy of her company.

He leaned back in his chair, taking in the way she looked in this moment—relaxed, confident, but still soft in a way that made everything feel easy. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of contentment and something else that Mark couldn't quite place but felt in his chest, like it was a quiet promise. He wondered if she could sense his own nervousness, the way his heart was still fluttering, even after all this time together. But when she smiled at him, that nervousness faded a little more.

"It's funny," Emma said softly, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. "I never thought coffee would feel like this. Like a moment that matters."

Mark raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

She set her mug down gently, her fingers lingering on the rim. "I guess I've always seen coffee dates as... casual, you know? Something light, no pressure. But this? This feels like it could be the start of something real."

Mark's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He hadn't expected her to say something like that, not so soon, not after everything that had happened between them. They hadn't even labeled what they were, yet here she was, talking like it was already a given that something deeper was forming between them.

He swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. "Yeah, I get that," he said, his voice a little quieter than he intended. "It feels the same for me. I don't really know how to explain it, but... I feel like I've been waiting for something like this."

Emma's eyes softened, her gaze unwavering as it met his. Mark felt a rush of warmth flood through him, like he was being enveloped in something far more meaningful than the simple conversation they were having. Something deeper, something unspoken but understood.

"I've been waiting too," she said, almost as if she were reading his mind. "But I think it's okay. I think we can take it slow. See where it goes."

Mark nodded, though his mind was racing. Take it slow. The words lingered in the air between them, offering him a sense of relief he hadn't expected. He'd been so afraid, so anxious that they might be rushing into something, that he might screw it up, or worse—never live up to her expectations. But now, hearing her say that she was willing to take things slow, it was like a weight lifted from his shoulders.

Slow. That was exactly what he needed. Time to get to know her, time to figure himself out in the process, without the pressure of feeling like everything had to be perfect. He could do that. He could be present, take things one moment at a time, and still try to be the person she deserved.

A small, contented smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at his coffee. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew that in this moment, everything felt just right.

Emma's voice broke through his thoughts, gentle but direct. "You know, Mark... I like that we're not rushing. I like that we can just be... us. And I think that's something special."

Mark's chest tightened at her words. There was something so real in the way she spoke, something raw and honest that made him want to open up, to let go of all the walls he'd built around himself. But as soon as he thought about being vulnerable, a wave of hesitation washed over him. He wasn't sure if he was ready to be that open yet, to share the parts of himself that were still afraid, still unsure. He didn't want to push her away with his own insecurities.

"I... I don't know," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "I just... I've never been great at this. Relationships, I mean. I've always been the one who messes things up."

The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and as soon as they were out, he immediately regretted it. He had been trying so hard to push those fears aside, but here they were again, rearing their ugly heads.

Emma, however, didn't flinch. She didn't pull away or make him feel like he had said something wrong. Instead, she simply reached across the table, her hand resting gently on his.

"I understand," she said, her voice soft and comforting. "And it's okay. You don't have to be perfect. I'm not expecting that from you. All I want is for you to be honest with me. And if you mess up, that's okay too. We'll figure it out."

Mark's breath hitched in his chest. He wasn't sure if he could even begin to express how much her words meant to him. The pressure he had felt, the constant need to be someone he wasn't—it was all fading away. In that moment, he realized that she didn't need him to be perfect. She just needed him to be himself, to show up and try.

"I can do that," he said, the words coming out with a sense of certainty he hadn't known he was capable of. "I can try."

Emma smiled, and Mark felt his heart settle. The weight that had been gnawing at his chest for so long—the fear that he was never enough, that he was always falling short—began to ease, little by little.

As they sat there, the conversation flowed more easily. They shared more about their lives, their pasts, their fears, and hopes for the future. There was no rush, no need for pretense. It was just two people, sitting across from each other, trying to make sense of a world that often felt unpredictable.

When the bill came, Emma made a small gesture to pay for their coffee, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "Let me get it," she said, her tone light.

Mark hesitated for a moment. He wasn't sure why, but the idea of her paying felt... wrong. As if it somehow made him feel indebted to her. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that, to feel like he owed her something.

"No," he said, his voice firm but kind. "I've got it. Let me."

Emma raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said, his heart swelling with a mix of affection and something deeper—something that felt like trust. "I'm sure."

He paid for the coffee, and when he handed the cashier the money, he felt a quiet sense of pride. It wasn't about the money—it was about showing Emma that he could offer something in return for the kindness she had shown him. In that small act, Mark felt a shift. It was a quiet, almost imperceptible change, but it mattered. He was learning how to give, how to be present in ways he hadn't allowed himself to be before.

As they walked out of the café, the world outside felt a little less overwhelming. The air was cool, and the streets were still wet from the earlier rain, but Mark didn't mind. Emma walked beside him, their pace unhurried, their steps falling into rhythm with one another.

For the first time in a long while, Mark felt something shift within him. He wasn't sure where things would go with Emma, but he knew one thing for certain—he was no longer carrying the weight of his fears alone. She had taken some of that weight, simply by being here, by understanding him in a way that felt genuine and real.

And as they continued walking, side by side, Mark realized that this was just the beginning. And maybe, just maybe, this time, things would be okay.

***

A/N: I guess this date went well.

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