Fictional Romance

Taking a seat in the local pub at lunch, knowing exactly what he hopes to have. He looks across the room to a beautiful woman on her laptop, avidly staring into the screen as she types furiously. Wanting to know what she's writing; knowing he may never find out.

The waitress comes over to ask what he'll have; he orders a steak burger, and upgrades his side of fries to a proper Canadian dish. Poutine.

Looking over to see what this beauty is up to now; still in her chair, but now peeking at last night's sports scores on the TV, smiling as the blatant run through flashes on the screen of the Broncos crushing the Vikings. A win that is always expected. Her eyes glaze back over as the replays come on for the Patriots game. A win in his books as they ruined the Saints.
She finds her muse again for whatever she's writing and turns back to her screen and types even more furiously than before.

The waitress brings her what looks to be fish and chips, she glances up in thanks, reaching for a fry as she continues on her train of thought.

His drink arrives. He takes a swig and mumbles to himself, "What are you writing?"
Looking to the TV to watch the hockey replays life seems to fast forward. He gets up and walks over, asking her out. Next thing he knows they are out, enjoying a nice meal with a bottle of wine. Giggling as their hands meet, both reaching for the bottle at once. Feeling the warmth of her hand near his. Smiling as he gently takes her hand and kisses it.

Paying the bill, and helping her into her coat; sliding his arm around her waist, feeling her welcome it there, as if it's home. Holding the door as they leave, taking her hand in the parking lot as they walk to his truck. Helping her in so he can drive her home.
Taking her hand as he helps her out, and walks her to her front door. Waiting for a hint that maybe the night could lead somewhere more pleasant that it has already been; his heart racing as he's already flying so high.

She reaches for her keys, hesitating.
"I had a great time tonight." She smiles in agreement.
He steps close, snaking his arm behind her back feeling sparks fly in anticipation. She gasps stepping back and leaning against the door. His arm and the door the only things keeping her from the ground. He braces himself against the door with his forearm, as he squeezes her tight to keep her on her feet. Leaning forward into her, their noses brushing, breath entwining in the little space that's left between their lips. She bites her lip, aching for him to close the distance; he moves closer with millimeters to the kiss that can only be described as "perfection."

Snapped back to reality by a jostle. Still in the pub; zoned out facing the TV, now back to football scores and replays from last night.
"Oh sorry," she says after bumping him on her way out, resting a long nailed, well manicured hand on his shoulder in apology.
"No worries. Have a great day."