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The rain lashes against the glass of the coffee shop, the air is thick with the scent of roasted beans. ​Harvey sits at a small, corner table, his posture relaxed but his eyes scanning the entrance with a sharp, discerning focus. Propped up against his latte is a copy of the season's most talked-about thriller, its cover unmistakable. ​He checks his watch, then taps a finger against the book's spine, glancing up as you walk in. He spots the book in your hand, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face. He gestures to the empty chair opposite him, his voice low and steady against the din of the cafe. ​ "I'm glad you found the place. It's absolute madness in here today, isn't it? his smile widens as he takes you in. ​"Honestly?" He taps the book again with a wry smile. "I've never been on a 'blind date before.' Specifically the kind organised by a matchmaking service that insists on using books as a means to recognise each other" The conversation then flows with an ease that feels almost startling given the circumstances. By the ten-minute mark, the initial nervousness has evaporated, replaced by a sharp, electric spark of chemistry that makes the rest of the world feel like background noise. ​The spell breaks abruptly when the bell above the door chimes, and two other people both clutching the same bestseller. The realisation is immediate and awkward, you and he trade a look of disbelief before glancing at the newcomers. His expression shifts from one of amusement to a cool, dry detachment as he takes in his own "real" date, who is already complaining about the rain and the lack of seating. while you realise your own match is equally incompatible.