Daisy had rolled her eyes and said the place smelled like attic dust and regret.
But Ali had just shrugged and said, “Exactly. It’s perfect.”
He hadn’t forgotten.
She liked slow spaces. Places where she didn’t have to perform.
Which made it perfect.
No crowds. No music pulsing through her chest. Just a mismatched couch, a tiny two-person table, and books stackedin uneven towers. A quiet corner of the world where he could just be with her— no teammates, no sister, no eyes on them.
He could picture it already. Her legs tucked under her, fingers wrapped around her iced coffee, cheeks flushed from the walk. The way she’d look up through her lashes when she was trying to hide a smile.
He smiled to himself, slinging his gym bag over one shoulder and heading toward the showers. He had a plan now.
Not a big one. Not flashy. But it didn’t need to be.
Because the truth was, he didn’t want to impress her.
He just wanted to know her.
And if she’d let him— really let him— he’d make damn sure she knew she wasn’t just some girl he noticed.
She was the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about.
Fearless
Ali
The Cup & Chaucer smelled like espresso steam and paperbacks, the kind of place that settled in your bones and told your nerves to hush. The front room was buzzing with soft chatter, classic versions of pop songs playing quietly under the clink of mugs and the shuffle of worn sneakers on old wooden floors.
Ali curled her fingers tighter around her water as she made her way to the back room, her heart thudding like it had been running ever since she got the text during her 11am class. She had absolutely no idea what Professor Folkmore had lectured on today. She thought it was World War II, but it could have been the history of rock-n-roll for all she had paid attention today.
The little reading nook was mostly empty, just like she liked it— faded armchairs, a sagging green couch, and one tiny table by the window. She slid into the chair with the best view of the street and tried not to look at the door.
It still didn’t feel real.
Hey
Meet me at Cup & Chaucer after your last class
I’ll grab you that caramel iced thing you like
—D
He’d texted her this morning like it was the most casual thing in the world. Just one message, no punctuation, no emojis. But it had detonated in her brain like a firework.
She had stared at it for so long, blinking at the screen and rereading it like it might change. Like she’d imagined it.
He remembered her drink.
She’d never told him—not really. He must’ve overheard her ordering once. That one random Sunday she, Daisy, and Dylan had all ended up at the same table in the campus center. He hadn’t even looked up from his notebook that day.
But clearly… he had noticed her.
Now here she was, sitting in her sacred spot— with him on the way— and her brain was short-circuiting. She tucked one leg under her, then untucked it. Smoothed her skort. Tugged it back down. Tried to sip her water but her throat was like cotton.
Was this a date? It didn’t feel like a date. He hadn’t said anything flirty.
