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Adam hadn’t noticed it at first. In fact, he’d almost thrown his cup away, ne’er the wiser about the digits scrawled in sharpie underneath the cup sleeve. He blinked at it like he looked at a foreign language instead of a phone number. This was the stuff that happened in youtube videos and after school specials. Someone wrote their phone number on his cup. The first thing he did was glance around the bustling coffee shop. Immediately, he saw so many other people worthy of a number — better dressed, affluent, sporting large cups of frothing drinks that cost more than a cup of coffee should ever cost. Maybe his cheapest-thing-on-the-menu drip coffee had gone into a cup meant for someone else.
Carefully, as if he didn’t want to be caught looking, he stretched out his arms, leaning back against the chair and looking out of the corner of his eye. The same guy who’d taken his order with the broad shoulders and broader smile was still working with the customers. And behind the espresso machine was the same barista who looked sharp in every way (and honestly the last person Adam would ever expect to see making fancy drinks in a coffee shop). Adam remembered his nametag said Ronan. Sometimes, there was also a girl behind the counter who was only slightly less sharp around the edges than the barista, and didn’t really seem to be a people person either, though she managed. She was nowhere to be found, maybe in the back. None of these seemed like people who would —
Blue eyes locked on Adam from the coffee bar. Ronan, sharp as ever, looked directly at him while his hands were busy steaming a pitching of something milk-like. Shit. He’d been caught. Had he been the one to write his number down? The barista usually didn’t even pour the drip coffee. His mind dredged up the memory of the barista squabbling with the broad guy behind the register (Ganson? Grayson? Gansey? He wished he’d paid more attention to the name tags now that there was a phone number on his cup. Gansey had made the handoff with a smile that had been almost too bright. Was he the one? Adam found it hard to reach a conclusion. Probably because he was still staring into impossibly blue eyes. He lifted his cup as if he were toasting the froo-froo drink Ronan had just poured while they’d been looking at one another. Then he tossed back the cold contents and finally looked away, gathering his stuff. Adam decided he wasn’t going to embarrass himself here. Instead, he waited until he got back out to his cobbled together car to dig out his phone.
Hi. This isn’t a joke, is it?
He didn’t get an answer for several hours. Adam decided then and there that the cup had been meant for someone else and tried to ignore the fact that he’d gotten his hopes up.
~*~
Three hours earlier…
“Chicken shit,” Blue huffed. She held a tray of freshly baked muffins, and she elbowed Ronan in the side on her way past him.
“What the fuck?”
Gansey chuckled as he pulled out sleeves of cups and lids from the stock shelves to replenish out in front. He could have pretended he was oblivious to the conversation but in matters that concerned Ronan Lynch and his emotions, he paid quite a bit of attention.
“You heard me. If you think he’s cute, give him your number.”
“That’s such high school bullshit, Sargent. I’m not giving some random stranger my number.”
“High school? How do you think people end up having a conversation? Carrier pigeon?”
“I’m sure Chainsaw could be trained,” Gansey supplied helpfully.
“Shut up, Gansey,” Blue and Ronan quipped in unison, then glared at each other.
Blue neatly arranged the muffins on a platter to take out to the bakery case. “Oh, sorry, Lynch. I should have said ‘people with balls’.”
“Listen here, you—”
“Ronan,” Gansey said with a warning tone.
“—you valued fucking member of the team. Not wanting to come off a total creeper in front of Adam when he’s a regular is not…” Ronan cut himself off as soon as he saw both Blue and Gansey smile like fiends. He knew he’d slipped.
“Fuck you. Both of you. I’m going back out to the bar. Wish it was a real one.”
Grabbing his apron, he stalked back out to the floor, tying it with the most contempt he could muster.
Gansey smirked and produced a sharpie from his pocket. The deed had already been done, Ronan’s number written not-so-neatly under the sleeve.
Ronan almost killed him in front of the customers.
~*~
Adam’s phone rang around 10 PM. He wasn’t asleep, this was early for him. The name that popped up on his caller ID was Cheap Coffee Mystery , and both his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He almost didn’t answer it, but inside him lurked a curious little demon who demanded to know who could possibly want to give him their phone number. Adam snatched up his phone.
“Hello?” If he sounded dubious, no one could really blame him, right?
The other end remained quiet. The only reason Adam knew the call was still going on is that he heard a slow breath on the other side.
Finally, there came a gruff, “Adam?”
“Speaking,” he replied, still cautious. “Ronan?” He took a wild guess based on the voice alone. He’d certainly heard it calling other names at the coffee shop, just never his.
“Yeah. Hi.” Clearly, this was as uncomfortable for him as it was for Adam, probably more.
“Hi. My question still stands.”
“What? Oh, about if it’s a joke. Fuck, no it’s not a joke. I mean, it wasn’t me that wrote it, Gansey fuckin’ did. But I…” There was a rustling noise on the other end of the phone, a rush of air like a deep breath through pursed lips. “Listen, do you wanna fuckin’ get dinner or not?”
Adam blinked. Pulled the phone away from his head and stared at it. Cheap Coffee Mystery displayed bold across the screen with their call time just innocently ticking away.
“I…are you serious?”
“Fuckin’… yes , I’m serious. Do you want to or not?”
Adam was pretty sure Ronan wouldn’t ask again. He closed his eyes, thought about how it felt to be pierced by that intense blue gaze, unwittingly thought about the dangerous line of Ronan’s mouth and how his hands looked at work. He swallowed.
“Sure.” He hoped that sounded way more casual than it felt. “I have a night class tomorrow. Thursday?”
“Sure. Meet me at the shop. I get off at six. Hope you like pizza.”
“I’m a pretty cheap date, so that’s fine, I guess.”
“Okay.” The call ended.
Adam laughed in spite of himself. That coffee from earlier was shaping up to either be a terrible disaster or the best thing to happen all semester.
He hoped it was the latter.