James Brown felt utterly dejected, really dejected. Who would have thought that simply saving Joan a couple of times—he just happened to be there, and it was all in fun—would lead to her taking it seriously.
The sound of a cup falling to the floor didn't even awaken Joan, who continued to slowly sip her drink, lost in thoughts of the extraordinary person she admired.
James kicked the broken pieces of the cup aside, unable to decide whether to laugh or cry. Was he really that cool? With his ordinary appearance, one that would get lost in a crowd, he had somehow captured Joan's fancy. What sort of taste did Joan have?
Luckily, the person Joan fancied was not him, at least not the person he was now. As long as Joan didn't find out he was that person, all should be well.
If Joan knew what James was thinking at that moment, who knows what expression she would wear?
