The door dings as he opens in, almost running into a woman on her way out with a tray of coffees in her hand. Once in the room, he looks around the room, his heart sinking as the line grows and the seats fill, just what he needs on his first Saturday to himself in three weeks. He's been working his butt off for his boss for the last three weeks to get the latest case solved, constantly interviewing people, constantly breaking people down, and constantly going backwards in his case. It took weeks before they even got an 'a-hah!' moment. So now, standing in the overcrowded cafe, he throws his head back and groans.
He takes a quick peek at his watch: half past nine. He honestly thought that if he slept in, he would have missed the traffic. But apparently not. He pulls out his cellphone and patiently waits for staff to make their way through the customers as fast as they are able to.
He scrolls through his social media, checking in on his friends and family. What family? Every once in a while he glances up from his phone to survey the area, moving forward in line when needed. Not many were here by themselves, all those who were single left with their breakfast, escaping the madness.
"How may I help you, sir?" The young woman at the counter asks, her eyes bright with the strain of tension in the crease. He places his order, hardly able to make eye contact as he views the pastries on display, his body visibly tilting, and a groan could be heard behind him.
"Can… I… have a… dou... Bos…" Another groan can be heard, and he rolls his eyes. "A jelly filled donut please." He finally says, straightening his back, sharing a knowing smile with the barista. She smiles back at him, tallying up his order. He hands over his coffee card for a new stamp of the week he hands over a five, refusing the change and takes the paper bag. "Have a great day." He smirks with a wink and steps back to wait for his breakfast.
Order after order is called until he hears "Half black-half decaf-triple sugar-triple milk" come from the high schooler on the other side of the counter. He nods to the boy, accepting his drink and turns to face the dining room.
All the tables were full.
He scans the room carefully, finding an empty seat in the madness. He isn't ready to go home yet. After a moment, he finds an empty seat beside the window. Well, not completely empty, on the other side of a table is a beautiful woman reading a novel. Perfect, he can eat his breakfast in peace, the first one of the week.
He looks around again, confirming that there is nowhere else to sit, before he walks over to the woman.
Honestly, he expected her to look up, to be infatuated by his good looks as all women are when they first see him. Instead, her head is bent, her eyes focused, and he notices headphone wires hanging from her ears, mixed in with her dark curls. Something tells him to hang back, to wait for her to notice him, as any gentleman his mother had taught him to do even if he hadn't been following it for at least a decade.
He shifts in his spot after a minute passes, and he clears his throat. She doesn't look up. "Um… Excuse me, miss?" He leans down to the side, trying to catch her eye. "Miss?" He feels irritation spark in him. He reaches forward, his pinky extending to tap her on the shoulder.
Before he could touch the fabric of her sweater, she speaks, her voice laced with an accent. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to ask your question?" She doesn't look up from her book until after she finishes speaking, a glint in her eye.
He gaps for a second before he can finally say sheepishly, "Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full." She nods with a smile to the seat across from her. He wastes no time, he places his cut and donut on the table and slides into the chair across from the woman. He opens the small paper bag to reveal the white powder coating of the donut before he remembers something. "Thank you for letting me sit with you."
"You are welcome." She smiles again, returning to her book and he feels his heart flutter. He straightens himself and takes a bite off his donut, averting his eyes outside the window to watch the scenery, every once in a while taking a peek over at the woman across the table. He frowns when after about 15 minutes he has yet to catch her staring at him, something he's used to women doing since he was of age. But why not her?
He tries not to stare, but he can't help but watch her. He has never seen a woman so beautiful. His eyes sweep over her dark curls that frame her face, spilling down over her shoulders, the ends hidden. He resists the urge to lean over to see how far down her hair goes, but instead he takes a sip of his coffee.
He observes the room, the other residents of the space seem to be keeping to themselves or talking to their partner. No one seems to be paying attention to the two strangers. He takes a swig of his coffee now that it's cooled off somewhat, staring off into space.
He doesn't know how long he's been wandering in his own mind, drifting along the clouds, but the sound of a book slamming shut in front of him and the groan from the beautiful woman brings him to. He stares at her, his eyes wide, his mouth agape. When she looks up, her eyes go from the pinched irritation to shock the moment her eyes meet his. It took a second for her to compose herself, straightening her back and pulling out her headphones, stuttering. "I- I… Mmm. I am sorry for startling you. It is just… It is very…" She pinches her lips together, trying to come up with the word.
He holds up his hand, letting out a low chuckle. "I understand. It was like that with Titanic, lost most of my popcorn that night." He briefly looks down at his cup, fiddles with it before looking up at her, a small smile on her lips. "I'm Tony, by the way." He offers his hand over the table, she ducks her head for a moment, he never thought her more attractive.
"Ziva."
He smiles widely, cocking his head to the side, trying her name on his tongue. "Zi-va, I like it." They gaze into each other's eyes, taking in the moment. They stay silent, but he feels like she's still talking to him, and the tilt of her head makes him think that she feels the same way.
Without a word, they sit at the table, slowly sipping on their drinks, admiring each other. He's not sure how long passes when her phone starts to ring. She answers, speaking in a language he can't pin-point, her body rigid. The phone call only lasts a moment before she ends her call with "Shalom." She runs her hands through her hair and lets out a deep sigh. "I- uh… I have to go." She says softly, stuffing her book in her bag and gathering her garbage. She gets up to leave, but he reaches out to grab her, his hand meeting hers.
She freezes, staring down at her hand. "Ziva…" He whispers, his eyes pleading up at her. "Can I see you again?"
She softens. "Same time next week?"
He pulls her hand towards him and presses his lips to it. "See you then." With a squeeze to his hand, she walks out of the cafe.