Incompatible

Little drops of water slid down the side of my mocha frappé, coating the plastic cup. I slowly ran a finger along the rim, lost deep in my thoughts, when a voice called out to me. "Margaret?" I looked up at the boy with blond hair, that was gently tussled by the late winter winds outside. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the cold, and he pulled down the long scarf that covered part of his face. I recognized him instantly. "Oh hi, you must be Tylor." He nodded in confirmation, quickly taking the seat opposite from me. "I'm so sorry I'm late, I didn't expect the traffic to be this bad," he smiled sheepishly, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges. You could tell he smiled a lot, the lines on his face went a lot deeper than mine. I smiled back politely, "I hope you don't mind that I ordered a drink. The waitress wouldn't leave me alone." "Right, that must've been awkward. I'm really sorry." There was a hint of guilt in his eyes, and I couldn't bring myself to be mad. The more I thought about it though, I didn't think I really was angry in the first place. It was something entirely different. I felt a pang of disappoint as the same thought ran through my head again. So, this is my match?