Back then it was simple. I served coffee at a bar. 

“You seem familiar,” Donnie said. 

I held his coffee, an expensive vanilla-flavored something. 

“Is that supposed to be a pickup line?” I ask. 

I sized him up. Skinny tan build, ripped jeans and a retro faded band shirt, the hint of a dragon tattoo on the side of his neck. 

“For you, it might be,” he intoned. 

I gently set the coffee down. 

“Next,” I called. 

Money was slid across the table. 

“You already…” 

“A tip.” 

I shoved it into my pocket. Later I would realize the phone number scrawled on the bill. I sat at a table after my shift looking at the number. This stupid. The bill couldn't be cashed with this nonsense written on it.

Finally I open my virtual communication screen and entered a message. 

Me: This tip is garbage. You owe me a movie. Fantasy Unchained 6:15pm at Theatre in District 5.

He showed up with an extra chocolate bar for me. We watched the movie. Then we sat on some concrete steps outside the theatre as the sun got low in the sky. 

“I never do this,” I tell him. “But the loss of that money annoyed me and I was going to watch the movie anyway.” 

“I get it. I wasn’t going to that coffee shop to propose. I just honestly thought you were familiar. I wanted to know why.”

“Did you figure that out?” 

“Not yet.”

“Not yet. You sound like we’ll meet again.”

“Won’t we?”

“How would I know?” I said. “I don’t do relationships.”

“We could be friends.” 

“Is a boy like you friend material?” 

“It doesn't have to be serious.”

“Do you do serious relationships then?”

“No, not really. Does it matter? You don’t even date.” 

The sky was growing dim. Neon lights were flickering on. 

“My place?” Donnie suggested. 

“Of course not.”