Chapter Text
Sylvie groaned as she scrambled half-awake to turn off her phone’s alarm. It was only 6 am, and she had to be at work in an hour and a half. Before that, she needed to shower and get dressed and feed her cat— but more importantly, she needed a drink. Sylvie grabbed the bottle of vodka off the floor next to her bed. She had fallen asleep drinking, which was becoming a more common occurrence since her last breakup.
Chugging the vodka like water, Sylvie sat up in her bed, and her orange tabby hopped up to greet her.
“Hey buddy,” she mumbled as she absent-mindedly scratched Hunter’s chin. “You want some food?”
Hunter jumped off the bed and scurried to the kitchen, and Sylvie followed behind. Dishes were piled sky high in the sink, and she needed to take out the trash. A problem for another day. She emptied a can of wet cat food into Hunter’s bowl on auto-pilot. Sylvie and Hunter had a strict morning routine. Hunter would aggressively meow at Sylvie if she was even a few minutes late.
Sylvie took a quick shower and threw on an all-black ensemble. Her t-shirt was a different shade of black than her pants, and it bothered her to no end, but she didn’t have time to pick out another outfit. It wasn’t like Sylvie was going to meet anyone at work anyway. It wasn’t like she even wanted to. After her breakup with Yelena, she didn’t think she would ever trust anyone again, and that was okay. Sylvie was alright with being alone-- besides, she had Hunter, and that was enough.
The walk to the subway station was cold and wet. A typical November in New York City. The car was filled with commuters rushing to get to work. Sylvie usually enjoyed the bustling subway system-- she would plug in her headphones and listen to some Mitski while people watching. She liked trying to figure out which ones were cheating on their wife, what majors the college kids were, and who was on their way to an important interview. She loved to make up stories. If she imagined that her own life was a novel, it made everything hurt a little bit less. Somedays, her life was angsty literary fiction, and on the really nice days when the barista smiled at her just right, it could be a romance. But, today, she forgot her headphones, and her life was suddenly a piece of bleak contemporary fiction about a budding crazy cat lady who drinks before work.
---
“You’re late,” Mobius hollered over his shoulder while he stocked the shelves with new releases. The smell of new books permeated the air, and Sylvie could have sworn that smell made her job worth it all on its own.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Sylvie said as she threw her backpack behind the counter and started to open the register. “It won’t happen again.”
Mobius stood up and walked over to the cash register, assessing Sylvie.
“Have you been drinking again?” he asked. He sounded less judgemental and more concerned.
Sylvie put her hands up in defense and overly enthusiastically said, “Me? Never!”
Mobius rolled his eyes and shook his head. Usually, drinking vodka at 6 in the morning would warrant stern talking. Still, Mobius knew Sylvie was raw from the breakup and was trying to give her space. “We have that author coming in for a signing today, so it might be busy.”
“Laufeyson?” Sylvie asked, suddenly perkier. Or at least as perky as Sylvie could get.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Mobius replied.
Loki Laufeyson had just written a groundbreaking memoir about finding out he was adopted and learning how to adjust to life with his overachieving brother. Sylvie couldn’t say whether she had any siblings, but she was adopted too. Loki’s book had touched a nerve in Sylvie. Meeting the author behind the novel suddenly made Sylvie’s Tuesday a little less bleak.
Sylvie counted down the hours until the signing. It was one of those days where work felt like it dragged on and on, and every second that passed felt like an eternity. Then, just as Sylvie would check the clock, confident that an hour must have passed, she was greeted with the harsh reality that it had only been a few minutes.
During their lunch break, Sylvie and Mobius traded breakup stories. Mobius was the one who set Sylvie up with Yelena in the first place, but she couldn’t hold that against him. Despite Yelena dropping the bomb on Sylvie that she wasn’t actually in love with her, Sylvie still felt lucky to have gotten to know her. And honestly, she felt kind of like a sucker for that. If Sylvie could hate Yelena, maybe she would be able to get over her more easily. But, instead, Yelena was all fire and passion. Every moment she spent with her felt like she was soaring. Sylvie didn’t think she would ever feel that way about anyone again. Mobius assured her that one day Sylvie would find her person. After all, Mobius had been through horrible breakups, and he still found Ravonna. Mobius and Ravonna were a beacon of light for Sylvie. They had been together for almost fifteen years. Sylvie couldn’t imagine even living another fifteen years, let alone being in love with the same person for that long.
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3 pm hit, and Sylvie was ready to go home. She only had to work a couple of more hours, and then she could curl up with Hunter and drink herself to sleep. That’s when he walked in.
He checked all of Sylvie’s boxes. Tall? Check. Handsome? Check. Mysterious? Check. She felt a heat rise in her cheeks when they made eye contact. Was he checking her out too? No. Not Loki Laufeyson. The author of one of the hottest memoirs in the country was definitely not checking Sylvie out. And Sylvie definitely wasn’t checking him out. She couldn’t afford to put herself out on the line again. It wasn’t as if someone like Loki would want anything to do with a semi-alcoholic bookstore clerk anyway. And yet, he was walking right towards her.
“Hello, I’m here for the signing,” he said.
Sylvie blushed and quickly looked down at her shoes, taking a deep breath and trying to compose herself. “Yeah, right this way.”
She directed Loki to a table in the center of the bookstore already set up with copies of his memoir.
“Would you happen to have a sharpie?” he asked her, peering deep into her eyes.
Pull it together, Sylvie. He only asked you for a sharpie.
“Um, yeah. One sec.”
Sylvie ran back behind the counter and pulled three sharpies out from underneath the register.
“Here’s three. You can never be too prepared.”
You can never be too prepared? Who says that?
Loki chuckled. God, that laugh would be Sylvie’s downfall.
“Thank you, my dear.”
My dear? Okay, he was definitely trying to kill her.
“Good luck,” Sylvie said as she quickly extracted herself before she could be more of an embarrassment.
Customer after customer came up to Sylvie and purchased autographed copies of Loki’s book. Sylvie spent almost the entire time contemplating whether she should say something to him before he left. Sure, she couldn’t crush on him— but she could at least tell him how much his memoir meant to her.
5 pm rolled around, and it was the end of Sylvie’s shift. She was eager to get out of there but even more keen to get her own copy of Loki’s book autographed.
“Well, hello again,” Loki said smoothly. “Here for an autograph?”
Sylvie felt her whole body tingle.
Loki grabbed a copy of his memoir before Sylvie stopped him.
“Actually, I have my own copy.”
Loki looked surprised, but he smiled when Sylvie pulled out a battered copy of his book from her black Kanken backpack. Loki flipped through the book and saw various passages highlighted. He raised his eyebrow as he looked up at Sylvie.
“I’m adopted too,” she blurted out. “I don’t have a brother, though. I wish I did.”
A mischievous grin spread across Loki’s face as he sarcastically said, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
Sylvie wasn’t sure what the proper response was to that, but Loki broke the silence when he asked who he was making the book out to.
“Sylvie.”
Loki wrote something down in her book that was definitely longer than a simple inscription. She was too nervous to read what he had written right then and there, so she quickly said thank you, gave Loki one last adoring smile, and almost sprinted to the L.
She didn’t read what he had written until she found a corner of peace and quiet on the subway car.
To Sylvie—
Let’s make our own memoir-ies.
(212) 555-5555
— Loki
Memoir-ies? Oh my god , Sylvie thought. Loki is a dork.
Despite her best efforts, Sylvie found herself hoping that Loki was someone worth trusting.