He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was the unfamiliar variable in a familiar equation. The silence stretched just long enough to feel deliberate, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it.
"Black coffee," he finally said. "No sugar."
"Of course," I replied, nodding too quickly. "What size?"
"Medium."
I turned toward the machine before my nerves could betray me, grateful to be out of his direct line of sight. The café hummed quietly around us—the low murmur of pages turning, the faint scent of old paper and fresh coffee mingling in the air. It was my favorite kind of calm. Except now it felt oddly chaotic.
I grabbed a cup, popped off the lid, and poured his coffee. When I set it on the counter, my fingers brushed his. The contact was fleeting—barely there—but it sent a sharp shiver down my spine. I pulled my hand back instantly, hoping he hadn't noticed the way my breath hitched.
"Here you go," I said. "That'll be-"
"Thank you," he said quietly, placing a twenty-dollar bill on the counter.
"You're welcome." I hesitated, then added, "We also have fresh banana bread today."
I didn't know why I said it. Maybe because I wanted an excuse for him to linger. Maybe because I wanted to see if I could make him smile. Food tended to do that.
His gaze dropped briefly to the pastry case. "Do you like it?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "A lot."
Another pause.
"I'll take a slice."
My lips curved before I could stop them. "Coming right up."
I bagged the banana bread, slid it across the counter, and rang him up, doing my best to ignore the way his presence filled the small space. He thanked me again and picked up his coffee. For a moment, I braced myself. I had unknowingly packed his order to go, yet I found myself hoping he would stay.
He lingered, gaze drifting past me toward the rows of books lining the walls. His jaw tightened, then relaxed. He shifted his weight, fingers tightening slightly around the cup.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally walked toward the shelves, chose a book at random, and settled into a chair directly in my line of sight.
An array of feelings churned in my stomach, but I ignored them all. I didn't analyze why it mattered so much or why I wanted him to stay. I simply let myself enjoy the fact that he was here.
The day passed much faster than usual, filled with stolen glances from both sides. His coffee was long gone, the banana bread devoured, yet he didn't move. After the first hour, he pulled out a laptop, effectively crushing all my hopes that he'd stayed because of me. He was probably just looking for a nice place to work, and I had roped him into my delusions.
Even so, I couldn't stop staring. And the way he kept glancing at me made me feel like he might share those delusions. I wasn't one to make the first move, but I hated the unknown. I needed to know if there was something there or not.
With a deep breath, I decided to bite the bullet and take the chance to ask him out, but when I spun around, he was already gone.
2- Callahan
If resignation had a sound, it would be the steady exhale I let out as my mother continued her monologue.
"At your age, Callahan, it simply isn't reasonable anymore," she said, folding her hands neatly atop the polished dining table. "Men who wait this long either don't want commitment, or they're hiding something."
I raised a brow at that. "Are you trying to ask me if I'm gay?"
Her eyes widened slightly. "Well, are you?"
I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my disbelief at the situation I'd somehow found myself in. "I'm not gay."
"You might as well be," she grumbled. "With the way you repel women. I just don't understand what you have against marriage."
