I've never understood why the seats by the windows are so popular at cafeterias. The truth is that you're putting yourself on show for the world. If you think you're the viewer who can sit and laugh at those outside stumbling through the harsh rain or sweating in the burning sun, then you're mistaken; they're looking just as much at you.

When I have my tea, I want to sit in peace and enjoy it while reading the paper. But this Tuesday should prove not only to leave me without a paper because I dropped it in a puddle on my way from work, but also I would find no peace after having ordered my tea at Costa. It was a busy day. I think every day at Costa is busy, but because of the weather everyone came in to have cake or a sandwich or some chocolaty thing to stuff their face with because no one carries an umbrella with them. I do, so I'd not hurried to the place and when I arrived, all the seats were taken. By the time my tea was done, however, a couple by the window got up and left, and I hesitatingly sat down and put my cup next to their garbage (why is it grown ups forget how to clean up after themselves when in public?). I unzipped my wet coat and hung it on the backrest of the chair before I leaned in to blow at my hot tea. I could smell the light earl grey already and for a moment every ounce of annoyance in my body disappeared. Then an idiot stopped outside the window.

Restaurants normally have menu put up outside so that people don't have to enter and sit down and claim a table just to realise that they don't want what the place serves. For some reason a lot of cafeterias don't do that. Instead they have the menu hanging above the coffee makers. Then you can stand in line and decide what you want to have as well as be tempted by their cakes. But what if you don't know the cafeteria? What if you're not sure it's worth standing in line for?

Well, this guy surely didn't know what Costa is. Because of this I immediately assumed him to be a tourist. That and his rude behaviour. Instead of entering the place, he kept standing right next to me outside the window while he tried to spot the menu through the glass. He was shadowing my table and I tried to keep gazing at my tea hoping that he would soon walk away. But he didn't.

After what felt like an eternity I looked up and took in his look; he was a tall, broad shouldered man with a tan, blue eyes, blonde hair and no umbrella. He was wet. Dripping to say the least, and his glasses were of little help in this weather. He was wearing a tight shirt with some smart brand-name on it which I didn't recognise, but I did notice the muscles he was showing off as the fabric of his shirt was clinging onto his skin. I stared at his abs for a while. Then I looked back up at his face.

Back then I didn't know his name, but I know it now; it's Alfred. Alfred Jones straight out of America. As he saw me looking, he gave me a dorky smile and shrugged as if to apologise for being in my way. Still he didn't move but just kept glancing towards the menu which he couldn't read. I waved for him to come in, but he didn't see it. Finally I knocked on the glass and caught his attention. He blinked at me and smiled.

"Get in," I said, but he didn't move out of the spot. He looked at me oddly. I rolled my eyes and waved at him, but he just waved back at me. Annoyed I pushed my cup of tea out of the way as I grabbed the pencil I had in the pocket of my coat and looked around. I found that the couple before me had left a bunch of napkins in between their garbage. I peeled one out and wrote on it:

They serve coffee.

I slammed the napkin to the window and watched as the guy outside read it. Then he pointed to his lips. I wrinkled my brows confused, but as he started chewing on the air, I understood and turned the napkin around to write:

Cake. They have cakes.

As he saw my answer, he seemed well pleased, but still he looked towards the menu again. People were still walking in and out of the place. It was starting to get rather crowded in here. I suppose that was why he didn't want to walk in, but I couldn't help but to think that if he actually walked in, he would quickly decide whether or not he wanted to stay. Instead he just stood outside like a moron - a moron ruining my view.

He pointed to my cup.

I am having tea, I wrote on the napkin. He laughed. I couldn't hear him, but I could tell he found it amusing and oh-so-typical. An Englishman is sitting at a cafeteria with a cup of tea. It's the perfect start of a joke from an American stand-up comedian. I grabbed a new napkin:

Ha-Ha. I showed it to him and grimaced sarcastically. That made him laugh even more. He looked so silly that I couldn't help but to smile a bit myself. After all he was the one standing in the rain communicating with me through napkin-writings. I was sitting in a warm seat at a warm place with my warm tea.

Being reminded of my cup I leaned in and took a sip of it. I could tell the guy outside still wasn't done with me. I tapped my pencil on the table while I pondered about what to write to make him leave.

Go away.

I showed it to him and he smiled naughtily as if I was challenging him. He shook his head.

There are no more seats.

He tip-toed and tried to look as far into the place as he could. His smile fell. I think he realised that I was telling the truth. As soon as someone left, their seat was taken over. Then his gaze slipped to the chair in front of me and he pointed to it with a grin. I glared at the seat. I'd honestly forgotten about it. He kept pointing to it and wriggled his brows and I stuck my tongue out at him.

It's taken.

He looked like a big question mark. I reached behind me and tugged at my scarf before throwing it to the chair so it looked like it was being used. The guy rolled his eyes and shook his head. Then he started messing around in the pocket of his jeans. I blinked as he withdrew a cell phone and started doing something on it. A few seconds later he pressed it to the window and I leaned in. He had written a text:

U look cute lol (:

I frowned and felt my cheeks heat up at his directness and immediately I looked around as if to make sure no one had been reading the text but me. But of course no one had. The writing was small and everyone were just busy ordering their drinks instead of paying attention to me. I clicked my pen and grabbed a new napkin to write at:

You look silly.

He answered with a grin:

I'm from USA!

My naturally answer was:

That explains it.

He laughed again and looked around. For a second I thought he was about to leave and I was surprised as I almost felt saddened by it. He was just some dense man I didn't even know, but then he looked back in at me and smiled brightly. He started writing on his phone again. I sipped my tea while I peeked out at him curiously. As he showed me the screen, I leaned in quickly:

Is t seat relly taken? ;D

I smiled and looked up at him. He looked back at me with hopeful eyes and I shook my head. Then he finally entered. I heard the door open behind me as he stepped in and a loud sigh as the heat wrapped around his cold, wet body and started warming him up. I didn't turn to look, though. I felt almost shy. Instead I looked at my tea and didn't dare to peek before I found him standing in line. He was already checking out the cakes. I was checking out him. Besides the shirt he had put on black jeans which were hugging his ass tightly now they were wet. I licked the sides of my lips and didn't really notice as someone sat down in front of me. I turned and looked at the girl surprised. She looked at me as well.

"Sorry, the seat is free, right?" she asked and didn't wait for an answer before she placed her cup of hot chocolate on the table. I shook my head.

"Uh.." I cleared my throat: "Sorry, but it is taken." She raised her brows.

"You've been sitting here alone. Who is it taken by?"

"Uh…" I cleared my throat again as I tried to come up with a good word that could describe the stranger without saying that he was a stranger. You don't take a seat away from someone saying: it's taken by someone I don't know! - then it just sounds like you want to get rid of them. Even if that is what you're trying to do, it's rude.

"It's taken by me," the guy suddenly said. We both looked up at my new, blonde friend who was holding onto a plate with two slices of cake on it. He was smiling warmly at me as he answered her: "I'm Alfred, a good friend."

"Oh…" She looked between us, but then she got up and grabbed at her cup. Alfred took her seat immediately.

"You're only having cake?" I asked him.

"Nope, my coffee is ready in a moment," he said. Then he reached in over the table: "I'm Alfred." I grabbed at his hand.

"So I've heard. I'm Arthur." I gave his hand a firm squeeze and he tickled the palm of my hand and we smiled at each other as if we really were good friends.

That was how I met Alfred Jones an else boring, wet Tuesday afternoon. And that was the beginning of my life with an American boyfriend.