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“You’re a liberal arts cliché.”
Ryan slowly pushes his glasses up his nose with his middle finger and doesn’t look at Steven. “Hey. Fuck you.”
“You’re reading Forster while on shift at a cafe. You’re wearing a cardigan.”
“It’s cold,” Ryan says, turning a page.
“Are you gonna grow a goatee? You should grow a goatee.”
“Leave Ryan alone,” Adam interjects as he passes them with the swiffer.
“What do you think?” Steven shouts in the direction of the back. “Niki! Should Ryan grow a goatee?”
“Doesn’t he already have a goatee?”
“You’re just jealous that you can’t,” Ryan tells Steven, reaching out to grab his chin. Steven ducks away from him, his whole face scrunched up.
“How dare you. You know I’m sensitive about that.”
“You’re not,” Adam says, passing them by again. “You hate beards. You say that you hate my beard all the time.”
“I don’t hate your beard, Adam!” Steven makes grabby hands at him but Adam is already out of reach. “We coexist, your beard and I. It’s a tolerant relationship.”
It’s half an hour until closing time and the place is dead. There’s snow swirling postcard-perfect past the large front windows, big fat flakes that will make the walk home Instagrammable but cold. Ryan briefly considers asking if he can grab a ride with someone, but Niki lives in the opposite direction, and he doesn’t feel like fourth-wheeling with Steven Lim and His Merry Band of Boyfriends. It’s possible that someone will insist on driving him in this weather, though, because they’re pushy and considerate like that.
“You guys can head out early,” he says, marking his place in his book and stretching out his back. “I can close.”
“Aw, really?” Steven asks, already stripping off his apron. “You sure?”
“Yeah, yeah, go. There’s nothing left to do but lock up.”
Niki and Adam are already putting on their jackets. Adam holds Steven’s out, helps him into it, adorable and entirely unnecessary. Ryan catches Niki rolling her eyes.
“I saw that,” Steven informs her, ignoring her laugh. “You hypocrite, like you and your wife aren’t like this.”
Ryan sees them out the door amidst a chorus of see you laters and thank yous and I take it back about the goatees (that last one might have just been Steven). Ryan does a lap of the place, makes sure everything’s in order, checks the lock on the back door. He’s still got a little time to kill so he goes back to the counter, opens his book.
The bell above the door jangles, a blast of cold air. Ryan looks up, expecting to see one of his friends – a forgotten phone, maybe. Instead, it’s a very tall man in a denim jacket.
“We’re closing soon,” Ryan calls over, before the man can get too comfy. “I can get you something to go.”
“Oh,” the guy says, frowning. “The sign says you’re open til ten.”
Steven was supposed to change it. Ryan groans. “Sorry sir. An error on the part of a coworker, but we definitely close at nine tonight.”
“It’s fine, I’ll come back another time.” He’s gone as quickly as he arrived. Ryan shrugs and goes back to his book.
*
Ryan doesn’t really expect tall guy to ever come back – the cafe is cute but it’s not anything that special, not that Ryan would ever voice that out loud – but he does. He ends up returning two days later, in the midst of their lunch rush. He snags a table and sits there for the better part of the afternoon. He doesn’t order a single thing.
“Andrew’s gonna be pissed,” Niki says, rearranging a cup of stir sticks. “He hates loiterers.”
“It’s a cafe, it’s made for loitering.”
Niki shrugs. “You know Andrew.” She pitches her voice low. “Got bills to pay, can’t let people sit and use our wifi for free.”
That does sound like Andrew. Ryan groans. “Let’s just not tell him.”
“I’m not saying anything, but he’ll know.”
She’s probably right. Andrew’s got a sixth sense for this kind of thing. Ryan groans again. “Let’s enlist Steven and Adam. They can distract him.”
“Can’t trust them. They’re Andrew’s agents, deep down.” She shakes her head. “We’re the only sane ones here.”
They fist-bump before Niki wanders off to clear some tables and Ryan spies on tall guy from behind the espresso machine. He’s got an interesting face, Ryan supposes, weird angles and weird hair, and he makes weird faces at whatever he’s reading. Of course that’s the moment that tall guy looks up, catches Ryan’s eye, and grins right at him.
Ryan spins around and pretends to be busy, his face burning.
*
The cafe has a small handful of regulars, ranging from harried businesspeople who bark their largeblackcoffee orders at Ryan every morning, to the students with their Macbooks and artfully arranged notes who sit and browse listicles and order macchiatos for six hours at a time. There is a group of semi-comatose PhD students who sit and mark papers while sucking back espresso shots most weekends. A gaggle of high schoolers who seem to all have raging crushes on Adam and sit in the corner giggling while he works the counter. It’s predictable, it’s mildly entertaining, and Ryan’s got everyone slotted neatly away in his mind.
Well. Nearly everyone.
“He’s back,” Niki says, elbowing Ryan in the side as he’s cleaning the milk steamer. “Third time this week.”
Ryan pauses in his task and glances over to where a familiarly tall guy is settling himself on one of the large comfy chairs by the electric fireplace. “God, not again.”
“Andrew wanted to know next time he was in.”
Ryan stares at Niki. “Why? Is he going to kick him out?”
Niki just shrugs. “I don’t know. Go tell him.”
“Why can’t you tell him?”
“I told him about the kid who broke four mugs in two hours, I’ve already given him bad news. You’re up to bat, Bergara.”
Ryan groans, drags his feet all the way into the back. Andrew is beating a bowlful of eggs and doesn’t even look up at Ryan.
“Has our tall friend ordered anything today?” Andrew asks. His tone is the standard level of inscrutable. Ryan has no idea how he even knows tall guy is there.
“No,” Ryan says. “He’s asked us to refill his water bottle though.”
Andrew pauses. “Has he ever ordered anything, any of the times he’s been in?”
Ryan winces. “No.”
“Well go make him order something, Bergara. This isn’t a public library, this is a business.” Andrew goes back to the eggs. “Do whatever you need to do.”
Ryan withdraws from the kitchen and finds Niki folding napkins on the counter, pretending not to eavesdrop.
“I’ve been told to go and make him buy something,” he tells her like she didn’t hear the whole thing. “I think I’ve been authorized to use force.”
Niki whistles, not looking up from her origami. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall. You’re light on your feet you’ll be fine.”
“You’re no help.” Ryan squares his shoulders and marches across the cafe.
Tall guy is reading a book, something dense and old with a worn spine. Ryan is briefly interested in what it is before he pulls his focus back to the task at hand. He clears his throat.
“You know, you need to buy something,” Ryan says conversationally. “You can’t just hang out here all day on free water.”
The guy blinks owlishly up at him. “I think I can.”
“Well. You can. But then you’ll piss Andrew off and nobody wants that.”
“Hmm.” He seems to be considering it. “Which one’s Andrew?”
“He’s in the back. He’s the one who does the baking and kinda runs the place. Blonde hair?”
“I think I know who you mean. I’ve never seen him smile.”
Tall guy has obviously never been there when Andrew and Steven’s shifts overlap, but Ryan doesn’t need to get into that. “Yeah, that’s him.”
The guy squints up at Ryan, tapping his chin, exaggeratedly ponderous. “You make a compelling case. I’m compelled. I’ll order something.” He claps his hands together and Ryan almost jumps.
“Uh, great. What would you like? We’re not a full-service place but I’m already here and you seem – lazy.”
“You’re really going all out on the customer experience here. I can’t wait to write you guys a Yelp review.”
Ryan hesitates. “Please don’t trash us on yelp. Andrew will murder me.”
“Do you really think I’m a Yelper? Do I look like a Yelper?” The guy pats himself down, as if expecting to find a Yelper sign on him he didn’t know about. “Maybe I’m doing something wrong.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Ryan says darkly.
The guy cheerfully ignores him. “I’ll have a latte in your smallest size.”
It takes a lot of willpower for Ryan not to mutter of fucking course. “What’s your name? For the order.”
The guy smirks. “Do you really need my name? It’s pretty empty in here.”
Ryan bristles. “Fine, don’t give me a name. I’ll write whatever I want on your cup.”
“I’d prefer ceramic, actually.”
They stare each other down. Neither of them budges.
“Do you want cinnamon on your latte?” Niki yells from the counter, effectively breaking the tension.
“Yes, please.” The guy is grinning.
“I’ll bring that right over,” Ryan says, trying to salvage what is arguably the worst customer service encounter he’s had in a while.
“Shane,” the guy says as Ryan turns to leave. “My name’s Shane. For future, uh, cup-labeling reference.”
“Cool,” Ryan says, and he feels the weight of Niki’s pitying gaze the entire walk back to the counter.
“Cool,” she parrots at him under her breath. “What happened out there? You’re usually way smoother.”
“I’m having an off day.” Ryan sneaks a glance at Shane, but Shane is looking back at him, still smirking. “God.”
“At least he bought something. We’ll survive another day.”
Niki makes the latte while Ryan mopes. When she’s finished she whips out some impressive latte art skills. Ryan is jealous.
“You can tell him it was you,” Niki says graciously.
Ryan frowns. “I’m not gonna tell that asshole I put a heart on his latte.”
“I’m trying to help salvage your game, Bergara, show a little gratitude.”
Ryan kisses her on the cheek, takes the latte. “You’re my favourite coworker.”
When he puts the cup on Shane’s table he gets a toothy grin and a crisp five-dollar bill. “Keep the change,” Shane says magnanimously. He spots the heart then, and his smile turns saccharine. “Oh, how thoughtful.”
“My coworker did it,” Ryan informs him, and hurries back to the counter.
*
After that, Shane is in the cafe all the time.
Ryan tries his best not to notice. He definitely doesn’t glance up every time the door opens, and he definitely isn’t disappointed every time it isn’t Shane. And when Shane is there, he definitely doesn’t go to his table under the pretense of filling the napkin dispenser or sweeping the floor or straightening the chairs nearby. Shane always tries to order and Ryan always tells him to come up to order like a normal person, and Shane always does, slumped against the counter and making Ryan nervous as he watches him work.
“I don’t get it,” Steven says, after Ryan comes back from pretending to wipe down Shane’s table. “All you guys do is argue. He’s not even nice.”
Niki coughs loudly and it sounds a lot like Andrew, but Steven ignores her.
“He’s infuriating,” Ryan says, grinding his teeth. “And he has problematic book opinions.”
“Problem –?” Steven starts to ask, but Niki socks him in the arm.
“Do not get him started,” she says, shooting Ryan a look. “He talked at me for two hours yesterday about it.”
Steven winces. “Yikes. Ryan. You can’t inflict this on us, that’s just not fair.”
Ryan isn’t even listening, is too busy staring Shane down from across the room. Shane is reading another book today, a heavy dog-eared hardcover that he’s shamelessly underlining with a ballpoint pen like a monster. Occasionally he glances up at Ryan like he knows he’ll find him staring and winks.
“This fuckin’ guy,” Ryan seethes, throwing down the cloth. “I’m taking my break.”
*
As much as anything else, being mad at Shane is fun.
He’s always down to argue, which is an important quality for Ryan, and he’s better at it than Ryan, too (also important, that that Ryan would ever admit it). He’s completely unflappable. And he’s there constantly – nearly every day Ryan works.
“There are other cafes,” Ryan says by way of greeting when Shane appears at the counter. It’s a cold day and there are bits of snow caught in Shane’s hair. “You do know that, right?”
Shane ignores him. “My usual, please,” he says, unwinding a scarf from his neck.
“Small latte, coming up.”
“Where’s Niki? I want latte art. No offense, but yours is pretty subpar.”
Ryan only half-fills Shane’s cup in retaliation and flips him off when he hands it over. Shane just laughs.
*
Just when Ryan is starting to wonder where this whole thing is going – the endless bickering that seems to walk right up to the edge of flirting – Shane stops coming by. After four Shane-free shifts, Ryan is starting to actually worry.
“What if he got hit by a car?” He asks Niki, chewing on his nails while she counts money from the till after a close shift. “What if he got murdered? He’s very murderable, he might have mouthed off to the wrong person and –”
Niki holds up a hand. “I’m gonna stop you right there. You’re spiraling.”
“But –!”
“Stop catastrophizing. It’s been four days. I’m sure he’s got a life that he was neglecting, that’s all.”
Ryan fumes about this very real possibility while Niki finishes up. He often wonders what it is that Shane does, exactly; Ryan’s money is on grad school. He always means to ask, but that would cut into his very important telling Shane he’s wrong time so he hasn’t had chance yet.
*
In the end, a week passes before Shane shows up again. Ryan has stopped being embarrassed by the way his head jerks up every time the door opens, or the fact that he can’t help but ask his coworkers if they’ve seen Shane when Ryan hasn’t been there. When Shane finally does appear, looking unruffled and normal, Ryan nearly loses his mind.
“Where the hell have you been?” Ryan demands the second Shane gets to the counter. He’s immediately made aware that that’s a bizarre thing to ask by Shane’s bemused expression.
“I was sick,” Shane says, nonplussed. “Real bad cold. I figured hey, why not spare you the sight of my snotty face.”
Ryan wrinkles his nose. “Gross.”
“Exactly. See, I was right.”
“How’d you turn this into you being right? We’re not even arguing.”
“Buddy.” Shane plants his hand on the counter and leans in, like he’s about to impart some great wisdom on Ryan. “We’re always arguing.”
“Ugh,” Ryan says, with as much feeling as possible.
“So you missed me, then?” Shane’s smirk has a smirk. Ryan sort of wants to smack him.
“Definitely not.”
Shane makes a hmm sound. Ryan is already making his latte out of habit, grumbling under his breath the whole time, and whenever he glances up Shane just squints at him like he’s trying to figure something out. Ryan hands him his latte and takes his exact change. There’s a pause.
“So,” Ryan says, because his curiosity is getting the better of him. “Why are you in here so much?”
“I may have been coming in here to see you.” Shane spreads his hands, shrugs. “Whoops.”
Ryan frowns. “What?”
“My buddy TJ told me to come check the place out. Well, he told me to come check out the hot barista.”
“Your friend recommended you come check me out?”
Shane grins apologetically. “He’s been trying to set me up with someone for forever and he’s finally cycled through all of his friends and acquaintances. So now nobody is safe.”
“Huh.” Ryan considers this. “So. He came in here and saw me, and thought, ‘hey, you know who’d like him? My pal Shane’, and he told you to come in here and you just. Listened to him.”
“Hmm. Yeah, okay, that sounds about as weird and terrible as I thought.”
“No shit.”
Shane frowns. “Well – okay, well, this is obviously not going the way I had hoped.”
“What were you hoping?”
Shane actually flushes. “I mean – a lot of things. Not all of them appropriate for public discussion, though, so –”
“Wow.”
“Okay, so I clearly misjudged this.” Shane looks so disappointed Ryan actually feels a stab of guilt. “I thought maybe – maybe we were flirting. But I guess you really do just find me annoying and now think I’m a stalker. So I’ll get out of your hair.”
Ryan can’t even let him turn away properly before his straight face falter. “Shane. Oh my god, you’re so dramatic.”
Shane pauses, raises his eyebrows. “What?”
“Jesus. Of course we were flirting. C’mon, I thought you were smart.”
Shane lays a hand on his chest. “Ryan. Why are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“You gave me a heart attack when you just stopped showing up for a week! I thought you died!”
Shane drums his fingers on the counter. His expression is making Ryan’s heart pound – pleased and amused and a little irritated. “So, in the interest of transparency – if I asked you out –”
“I’d say yes. As long as it’s not for coffee, obviously.”
“I barely even like coffee. We’re definitely going bowling or something.”
“You don’t like coffee? What the fuck, you’ve bought so many lattes!”
“Yeah, it’s a real fuckin’ tragedy that this place literally only does coffee. What kind of establishment are you running, Ryan? No hot chocolate? No tea?”
“Andrew’s a purist. And it’s not my cafe!”
Shane cocks his head and doesn’t say anything, just considers Ryan for a moment. “Yeah,” he says after a weird, long pause. “Yeah, TJ was right. This is gonna be great.”
Ryan had about four mocking comments ready to go but none of them are appealing in the face of Shane’s borderline-tender expression. He rolls his eyes. “Just know that I expect to be wooed. I have high standards.”
“Yeah, obviously.” Shane smirks. “Don’t worry – I’m gonna woo you so hard you won’t know what hit you.”
Ryan can’t think of a single thing to say to that.
*
They go bowling after Ryan’s shift. Ryan wins, and Shane insists that he let it happen as part of the wooing, and they argue about it for the entire Uber ride back to Shane’s building. They continue to argue all the way through the elevator ride and right into Shane’s apartment – which is nicer than Ryan had expected – and continue to argue while Ryan meets Shane’s cat. “Of course you’re a cat guy,” Ryan interrupts, watching the cat wind around his ankles and get ginger fur all over his pants. “You like cats and tea.”
“And you,” Shane says, coming over to hook his fingers through Ryan’s belt loops. “I normally have great taste, I don’t know what happened.”
Ryan opens his mouth to tell Shane to go fuck himself but then decides to just kiss him instead.