When you two walked in, you were instantly greeted by the sound of an old Italian man. He yelled your name out in joy, walking over to both of you with an extra bounce in his step. “Well, well, well, you brought a boy this time, eh?”

Your usual blank face going slightly embarrassed was a sight for Dennis. You turned back to him, “This is Dennis. We work together.”

Dennis reached over and took the older man’s hands, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you then huh?” He laughed, “because this one is here more then I am. And I own the damn place!”

You didn’t look amused, although Dennis was starting to realize that you never did. Or maybe he didn’t know you enough to tell when you were more than neutral, because the owner was laughing and patting you on the back like he could tell. Dennis wanted to be able to tell, he decided.

“Making fun of your customers is not a good business model.” You scolded, although you didn’t move away from the laughing man.

“Yeah, yeah,” the owner sobered, “Cmon, I have your usual table ready.”

The older man led the way to the back of the restaurant, where a small table was standing on four legs. Surprisingly food was already on the table.

The owner must’ve seen his confusion, "The missus over here always comes in at seven-fifteen on the dot. Orders the exact same thing everyday. Three pepperoni slices, and a large apple juice.”

You sat, your back on the wall. “I like routine.” You said simply, “We need more food.” You called out to the owner, who was already heading behind the counter.

The man didn’t turn back, simply called out, “I’ll be back in five. Be ready.”

You hummed. Turning back to Dennis, who was barely lowering himself onto the chair, looking around the place with a face you couldn’t place.

“I’m here often because I like it.” It was almost as if you felt you needed to explain yourself.

Dennis waved you off, “I go to the same coffee place every morning.”

“Yes. Febes coffee. Did you know it’s Vietnamese coffee?”

Dennis could only stare at you with pursed lips. You then realized you overshared.

“I go some mornings, and most of the time you’re there.”

“You’ve never said anything.”

“Because we’re not friends. That would be weird.” You scoff out a laugh, like he said the most outrageous thing in the world.

At least, Dennis couldn’t help himself. “You asked me out on a date, we’ve never talked before. Except for hellos and goodbyes, but you coming up to me in a coffee shop is too weird?”

Dennis wasn’t trying to be mean. Really he wasn’t. He just really, really, wanted to understand your way of thinking.

“My way of thinking is odd.” You say, taking a bite of your large pepperoni slice. “Sometimes I don’t understand it. But it is. Can’t help it.”

Dennis stared at you for some time. Before nodding slowly, “Okay.”

You swallowed your pizza slice, avoiding his eyes. “Okay.”

You don't flinch, “I have it planned, I would show you but my planners in my locker,” you shrug, "You'll take me on a date, and then another one in two weeks, maybe a third but probably not. Then you'll ask me to be your partner, I still haven't figured out where yet but we can come up with something together,”

“I'm going to do all that?” The situation was so odd that for a fraction of a second, Dennis thinks you can see the future. 

You pause, thinking, “Well…you don't have to, obviously. I don't have any blackmail material on you yet, you can say no.” 

He furrows his brows, “Wait–is this, are you asking me on a date?” 

You shake your head with a frown. “No. I'm telling you we are going on a date. That is not asking.” 

“So…I can say no?” Not that he would, he thinks. 

“I guess.” 

An awkward silence starts on his side. You are humming to a song he can't name. A sweet smile on your face.

He clears his throat, makes a rash decision, and plays with his own fingers. “What–what time Saturday?” 

You straighten only a fraction. “Seven on the dot. Get me flowers, but not ones that are fully bloomed. Those only last days, if that.” 

Dennis nods slowly, “Okay, yeah I can do that.” 

“We’ll go to my favorite pizza place, you will ask me about my upbringing, and I will ask about yours.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Sounds like a, um, plan.” 

“It is a plan. It's in my planner.” 

Dennis doesn't know where to go from there, so he simply brings his gaze to the ground. 

You don't seem to mind, slowly extending your hand and patting his shoulder softly. He jumps, and you simply gaze at him with a small smile before practically skipping away.