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Monday’s were the bane of most people's existence.
The relaxation of the weekend had been stripped away like a warm security blanket being yanked off your shoulders, leaving one cold and exposed to the cruel and uncaring world of a Monday morning in capitalist America.
The rank and file were already moving out of their homes and flooding the highways with miles of red breaklights for as far as the eye could see. Everyone in a rush to arrive at their destination but no one wanted to get there.
Gideon was no exception. She specifically scheduled herself to work on Monday mornings because the sheer volume meant better chances at tips. In theory anyway. In actuality, people were so grumpy on Monday morning she was just as likely to get a curse and a nasty epithet than a dollar bill or two in her jar. On the convex, Friday morning were likely to net more tips and she worked those too whenever possible.
But it wasn’t Friday, it was Monday. Terrible, awful, raining Monday.
And Gideon was late.
Her footsteps thundered across the wet cement, splashing through every puddle between her little third floor apartment across the street from Mithraeum University to Canaan Coffee House. The rain was cold and had already soaked her from foot to knee, her umbrella powerless to stop the splash back of every puddle she sprinted through. Her breath came out in billowing clouds, the early November air and rain, was ice cold and her lungs burned with every step.
This was why she skipped leg day.
It was a bitch!
She arrived at the coffee house's front doors at 5 after 6, the sun hadn’t even risen yet. Not that you would be able to really tell through the thick clouds of stormy gray that hung overhead.
The shop was due to open in fifteen minutes. Plenty of time to run into the back and get her stuff on. She was just going to have to settle for being wet all day though.
“Good morning, Gideon!” A voice called from the front and Gideon looked up in time to see Magnus coming out of the back with a piping hot tray of croissants on a pan.
“I’m sorry I’m late!” she panted, standing there, water dripping off her umbrella and jeans onto the shining white tiles just inside the front door. Magnus blinked at her before glancing at the clock on the wall.
“Ah, so you are. Well, it’s alright. You hardly ever are and with weather like this? I’d prefer you take your time getting here so you don’t get hurt. After you get suited up, will you set the wet floor sign up over there?” he asked, carefully putting the pastries in the display case. Gideon nodded mutely before closing her umbrella and walking into the back.
Her every step squelched in her shoes and she knew it was going to be a long day, walking around in soaked socks. At least Magnus wasn’t upset with her. She’d had a number of old, cranky and just plain asshole bosses over the last few years. Magnus Quinn was like an oasis in the desert. Understanding, kind, cool and he liked her jokes! The last thing she wanted to do was get on his bad side. And maybe, deep down, the thought of disappointing someone who was so genuinely kind to her was unthinkable.
She pulled on the brown apron hanging off the hook in the back and slapped the same colored hat down on her slightly damp, ginger locks and took a deep breath, willing some sort of revenant of retail cheer to enter her body and take over the next eight hours of her day. It didn’t but hey, you couldn’t say she didn’t try.
When she stepped back out to the front to finish setting things up, she resigned herself to faking it, like every other day.
Her Monday did not improve with the appearance of angry, hurried and uncaffeinated patrons. Many of whom's patience was as low as their caffeine levels and that was, of course, Gideon’s problem.
The wait was too long? Her fault. Coffee too hot? Her fault. The rain? Well, of fucking course it was her fault!
If Magnus didn't pay such a decent wage and it was this bad on every other day of the week, it would not have been worth it.
Something about Monday morning just brought out the worst in people. Especially people who were trying to get their coffee and go to work.
There were a number of college students in line as well as it drew closer to 8:00 a.m.. The poor saps who had told themselves at inrollment that they could get up early for an 8:00 a.m. class.
Gideon had the good sense to know that she was not nor ever would be one of those people. Her first class on Monday didn't start until 3:15. It was also her only class on Monday.
Because Monday .
You wouldn't catch her dead at an 8 a.m class.
Or maybe that was the only way you would catch her at one.
One thing at least could be said for all the pitiable students making their way to class with the rising sun. They were a hell of a lot nicer than most of her other customers that morning.
With the glaring exception of Silas Octakiseron. A theology major that had to be the biggest prick Gideon had ever met. He came in every Monday morning like clockwork and ordered an Earl Gray tea to go and bitched about it at every step possible while giving Gideon the nastiest, judgmental look he could fathom with his beady little eyes. If she was wearing a sleeveless shirt, his gaze would fall on the pakati band tattooed around her upper right bicep and sneer and Gidon wanted to vault over the counter and throttle him. By the grace of some higher power maybe, she had not.
Yet.
There was always tomorrow. She was wearing a hoodie under her apron though recently, so maybe not till spring. She would have at least spit in his tea if she didn’t think Magnus would lose his mind if he found out, so she settled for getting him out of the shop as quick as fucking possible.
The crowd thinned a bit after 8 but Gideon’s day did not improve. In fact, Silas seemed to be the harbinger of the worst part of her day yet. Because of course he would be. She burned herself on the steam wand and it didn’t take more than a minute to leave a long, blistered burn across the back of her left hand. She cursed loud enough that Magnus had come out of the back and upon seeing her burn, set to patching it up with gentle hands. It was at times like this that she understood his wife’s doting of him. He was too nice.
She then got to spend fifteen minutes in an argument with a woman about how her coupon was expired and there was nothing she could do about it. Of course she had then wanted a manager. Magnus told her the same damn thing and she left, though, no happier than when she had been with Gideon. She and the boss had just shared a look.
By 9:30, the second wave of monday people people bustled in the door and crowded about in front of the counter as was normal and Gideon was so done with this day. She still had a couple of hours before she took her break and her burn stung fiercely.
She was hurrying to wipe and dribble off the side of a cup so she could hand it off to a customer when she caught a glimpse of someone stepping up to the register from the corner of her eye and she turned toward them, words that had been rushing up to the tip of her tongue died before they could make it past her lips.
Standing on the other side of the counter, looking back at her from black eyes ringed in even blacker eyeliner, was Harrowhark Nonagesimus.
Gideon only just barely managed to keep from choking on her own spit in surprise.
A premed student that she had shared nearly all her gened classes with last year. Harrowhark was a wickedly smart and accomplished student but she also had a mean streak a mile wide when it suited her. That, in conjunction with her razor tongue, made her neigh unapproachable. That and the ultra goth look she had going on. Ripped, black skinny jeans, black jacket, nails painted the same and the myriad of silver studs and rings pierced through her ears. It was intimidating to most, even at her 5 foot nothing height. Combat boots not included.
Her eyes met Harrow’s, who’s flashed with recognition the moment Gideon met her stare.
“Hello, Griddle.” She greeted simply, looking back at her, face neutral but Gideon’s tongue suddenly felt too big for her mouth.
Harrow had had this weird effect on her since they worked on a group project together last year.
Their history class second semester of their freshmen year.
Gideon groaned as the words '....A three person group project and I’ll be picking your partners.' left the professor's mouth. Silently from the back row of seats, she willed with all her might to be paired with Palamedes and Camila. Hoped and prayed to a god she didn't even believe in.
Her nonexistent faith was not rewarded when she heard: ‘Gideon Nav… Harrowhark Nonageismus….’
She made a face, trying not to look over at the classmate in question, whom Gideon had only had passing interactions with at best and most of them included some kind of glare or cold indifference. Definitely not her first choice.
"...and Ianthe Tridentarius."
Gideon could feel her soul leaving her body and the way the person sitting next to her glanced over at her, the distant dying sound she heard must have come from her.
In a measure of inconvenience, getting partnered with Harrowhark was like stubbing her toe. Getting Ianthe was like falling face first into a bear trap.
Like Harrow, she’d had a few passing interactions with Ianthe. And they were all abysmal. Though whereas Harrow was indifferent to Gideon, Ianthe couldn’t keep her blackhearted little thoughts to herself even if she wanted to and anytime Gideon happened to pass by, a snide or smart comment was sure to follow.
Remarks about her clothes, her hair, the way she laughed. Gideon really just wanted to kick the bitch off a bridge. Harrowhark might have given her mean looks and mumbled remarks that Gideon assumed were just as mean, but she at least didn’t seek Gideon out to make them.
Was it too early in her college career to fake her own death? She briefly considered it anyway as the professor finished their explanation of the assignment and dismissed class for the day, allowing students to group together and get started. Gideon sighed and glanced over where Harrow was sitting near the front of the room. Ianthe had already slid over and was leaning in close, saying something to harrow that she was too far away to hear. She made a face before steeling herself and gathered up her bag before standing and skipping down the steps toward the pair with all the excitement of a woman headed for the gallows.
Then she was standing on the same level as them, Ianthe facing Harrow, her back to Gideon. Harrow’s dark eyes slid up to look at her and Gideon steeled herself, raising a hand in way of greeting.
“Sup?”
Harrow nodded somewhat amicably, maybe, to her and Ianthe half turned to glance up at her. A look of annoyance seemed to flit briefly across her face, lilac eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly before the look vanished and she smiled at Gideon.
One that made her skin crawl. It was always that shitty little smile that preceeded something equally shitty coming out of her mouth and Gideon choked down the anger already trying to climb up her throat.
She was not going to let Ianthe-fucking-Tridentarius stop her from finishing this project and class!
“Oh, Gidget, you are here... goody.” She batted her spidery eyelashes at Gideon, who felt her face fall at the name, her jaw twitching.
“It’s Gideon,” she grumbled, moving past Ianthe on the end of the aisle to slip past her and Harrow, to sit in the empty chair on her other side and mumbling to herself. “I wondered if you couldn’t read but apparently you can’t hear either.” She would swear she imagined the tiny, quick, breathy sound that came out of Harrow.
“We have to pick a well-known, historical place to write about. I was thinking the catacombs of Paris…,” Harrow hummed, looking at her laptop. Ianthe rolled her eyes.
“Of course you would pick something with bones, Harry.” Ianthe sighed, dropping her chin into her palm with a long suffering sigh, giving Gideon the impression they had had this conversation, or one similar, before. Or Ianthe was just a prick like that. Probably that one.
“And what would you suggest?” Harrow retaliated, dark brows furrowed between her eyes, drawing Gideon’s attention to the piercing in her left brow. It was black and was nearly camoflauged by her dark eyebrow.
“Something a little more interesting, oh, speaking of Paris, what about the Moulin Rouge?”
It was Harrow’s turn to make a face at that. “No.” That was all she said. No arguments, no explanations, just a flat refusal. Ianthe clicked her tongue against her too white teeth.
“Well, why don’t we have a tie-breaker?” she tilted her head, letting her long, straight, pale blond hair fall over her shoulder as she turned her gaze to Gideon, who felt a chill run up her spine. Like a mountain lion had just turned its sights on her. “What do you think, the catacombs or the windmill?” she asked.
Gideon would rather cut off one of her fingers then agree with Ianthe about anything right now. Who would have thought the mistress of darkness beside her was going to be the lesser of two evils?
“Bones are cool.” Was her simple answer as she stared back at Ianthe in defiance but from the corner of her eye she could see Harrow’s silently regarding her.
“Tsk, whatever,” Ianthe sniffed and glanced at her phone, something obviously more interesting than their project, because she stood and shouldered her bag. “I hate to cut this short but I have a matter to attend.”
Gideon balked at her for a second as she walked off, not able to make her jaw work at the retreating women’s back.
“And our project?” It was Harrow’s voice that cut through the silence, sharp as a knife.
“Catch me up later, you have my number, Harry. Ta~.” She gave a little wave over her shoulder, leaving them sitting there as Gideon sputtered silently at the audacity of this bitch.
“What the fuck!?” she finally managed to spit out once the blonde had vanished out of the lecture hall. Harrow was rubbing her temple with her right hand, her black painted lips pulled in a grimace.
Gideon ground her back molars, annoyed before turning to Harrow. “Can we just do the whole damn thing ourselves?” she asked and Harrow looked at her, still frowning, brow furrowed but not so much in aggravation as… curiosity maybe?
“Do it ourselves and just let her have a free A?” she asked. Gideon glossed over the confidence Harrow seemed to have that they would get an A on whatever they did and nodded.
“Maybe she’s your friend, but I’d rather give her a free grade then spend more than five minutes with her,” she declared, frowning. Harrow scoffed, lip curling in a sneer that she had seen on her face plenty but the words that came out of her mouth were the last thing she expected.
“Tridentarius and I are not friends,” she sniffed and Gideon couldn’t help the disbelieving look she could feel on her face.
“Everyone calls you ‘Harry’ then?” she asked and Harrow glared at her. Black eyes boring into hers.
“No and I’d prefer it if she did not either,” she snapped. “Surprisingly, I would agree with you. I’d rather not have her present at all if it can be helped.”
“Soooo, let’s get started?” Gideon said and the way Harrow was looking at her kind of made her think she would rather she not be present either. Well too damn bad. Which seemed to be Harrow’s conclusion as well as Gideon stared back unblinking because she only gave a single, stiff nod before grabbing her laptop and her bag and standing.
“The library then.” She started down the steps without a backward glance or acknowledgment from Gideon who frowned, but hurried after her.
A mutual disdain for Ianthe Tridentarius turned out to be a great conversation starter, who woulda thought?
Bad mouthing her from the confines of the back corner of the library gradually turned into tentative conversation about other things. Their project mostly, at first. Then other little things had begun to leak into the conversation. It took at least an hour to get Harrow to start responding to her about anything other than the project. If Gideon was anything though, it was persistent and chatty. Asking Harrow about her major was the ticket and between pouring through books and saving the links to websites for their citation page, she was treated to an in depth explanation about orthopedic labs and premed requirements.
Which was weirdly not the most boring conversation she had had that week. No, that went to Palamaedes and his lecture on the evils of toast sweat. Specifically Gideon’s on his coffee table on Tuesday morning.
No, what kept her interested was not some deep-seated interest in bones but the look on Harrow’s face as she talked about it. It was hard to describe the way her charcoal eyes seemed to light up and she became, almost, animated as she explained. This more than anything else held Gideon’s attention and prompted her to listen in order to ask somewhat intelligent follow up questions that would keep Harrow going. Even with the distractions, it only took them a combined five hours to finish the project. Confirming that Harrow was as smart as Gideon had thought. Even when they had officially finished the project and Harrow had closed her laptop resolutely, neither of them had moved to go right away. They were locked in debate over a discussion topic Gideon’s gender studies professor had given them the day before. She was reading some of the dumbest and most ignorant responses from the discussion board and watching Harrow’s mouth pucker up in obvious distaste before launching into a counterargument. Some of which Gideon did use to finish the assignment. She’d been pretty sure just from looking at her that Harrow was queer in some form or fashion but this was just confirmation.
It was weird but fascinating to Gideon. Nearly a whole two semesters of sitting a few seats away from Harrow, passing her by in the halls, on the quad and in the library and this was the most life she had ever seen her display. It was weird but endearing… almost… cute.
That was the thought that turned out to be Gideon’s undoing. Once she let her mind open to the possibilities, it was impossible not to see them.
Whenever they passed by each other someplace, one of them would wave if they were just passing by. More accurately, Gideon would wave and Harrow would nod to her.
Harrow never approached her, except in the library.
Quite a few times now she had just been minding her own business, huddled in the back of the library when Harrow would appear and in the dim corner, shadowed by the looming shelves and countless pages, would plop herself down at the same table and work in silence until Gideon couldn’t help herself but start a conversation.
And for all Harrow’s scowls and grumbling about working in silence, she never did get up to leave till Gideon did.
The first time she had stood to leave with a quiet “Goodbye, Griddle.” Gideon had just sat there, mouth ajar. Sure, that was the only nickname she ever got, meanwhile she had made a personal game of coming up with as many goofy or asinine names as she could for Harrow.
Twilight monarch, osseous overlord, night boss. All drew various, disdainful reactions from Harrow, but the command to stop never came. Gideon would swear on her mother’s grave that a time or two she had even see the barest twitch of Harrow’s lips. Not a smile at all but not a frown either. It did weird things to her. Til there was just a massive knot of feelings about Harrow in her chest that Gideon couldn’t even find the end of, much less try to untangle.
They did get an A on that paper but it wasn’t the only thing Gideon got. She’d walked away from that class with a solid B and a stupid crush on a tiny, angry goth woman.
It didn’t help that slowly, Harrow began showing up in other places that Gideon frequently haunted, especially when she started working with Palamedes. Sometimes Gideon would show up to his and Cam’s shared apartment and Harrow would be there. They’d exchange brief words but not much else. Like there was an unspoken rule that they not have conversations when other people were around.
Gideon didn’t know what the hell this dynamic was. Were they friends? Not really but they certainly weren’t strangers either. She didn’t know what it was.
Now, it was a dreary Monday morning, Gideon was wet, tired and standing face to face with the gothic, and harrowing(ha) object of her weird affections as people crowded around the counter wanting their coffee and she must have zoned out for a moment or two because Harrow was looking back at her, her pierced brow cocked in silent question as some big dude half leaned over the counter, a vein standing out against his neck.
“Can I get my damn coffee now!?” Gideon jerked back and coffee spilled out the top onto her hand, making her hiss. Just in time for Magnus to come out of the bank and see what was happening.
“You all good out here?” he asked.
“Nav, are you okay?” Harrow’s voice drew her attention almost against her will. Harrow was looking at her, something almost akin to worry in her heavily mascaraed eyes.
“Yeah I just…” Too much was going on, people yelling about coffee and asking her questions and her hand hurt. The old burn and the new. Her brain groped for words as her eyes locked with Harrow’s.
What she wanted to say was ‘Hold on a second.’ or ‘Give me a minute.’
What actually came out of her mouth as she stared back at Harrow was:
“Hold me a minute.”
The breathy tone meant to convey exhaustion now had a…. whole different connotation and Gideon’s face was turning a darker red then her hair as Harrow’s eyes went wide. She was definitely not imagining the maroon tint quickly blooming across her umber cheeks either and panic shot straight through Gideon like a bolt of lightning.
She slammed the coffee cup on the counter where the man was still yelling and spun on heel before sprinting into the back, past Magnus. She didn’t say a word to him, nor look at him, just hustled into the back and headed straight for the deep freeze.
The door slammed shut behind her, leaving her alone in the cold and quiet. The loud sounds of the front of the shop muted.
"Ughhhh" Gideon ground as she plopped on a box, her head in her hands. She had just made a damn fool of herself. The words were on repeat in her brain.
'Hold me a minute'
She wanted to curl up into a ball on the freezer floor and die.
The look on Harrow's face was what was really tearing her up inside. She couldn't even imagine having to face her again. Especially not right now.
Luckily, Magnus never came looking for her. She only left the deep freeze a good half hour later when she was so cold she couldn't stand it anymore. It hadn't done much to cool her shame but she was going to get frostbite if she stayed in there any longer
When she came back out, the front of the shop was mostly empty and Magnus stood behind the counter wiping it down. A cursory glance around told her that Harrow was gone as well. She turned her gaze back to Magnus and squared her shoulders before approaching.
He glanced up as she stopped beside him and looked at her expectantly.
"Hey, I'm really sorry about that, Magnus I…" she started, but he just held up a hand cutting her off.
"It's alright Gideon," he assured her. "Sometimes we just get overwhelmed and have to step away. That one customer was being plain unreasonable." For Magnus, that was as good as a curse.
Gideon felt her shoulder sag in relief, again thinking about how lucky she was to have Magnus for a boss.
"Thanks Magnus… I won't let it happen again," she assured and he just waved a hand.
"Forget about it… you could answer a question for me though…," he trailed off and Gideon nodded. "That young woman that was at the counter, a friend of yours?"
Gideon would have to have been an even bigger fool than she already was to not catch the certain lilt he put in 'friend' and Gideon frowned.
She wasn't really sure how to answer that question herself.
"I know her." She nodded and offered nothing else. Magnus just nodded and asked no more questions.
~ ~ ~
She was not supposed to have food back here. In fact, the campus library had several large signs reminding her of this fact when she walked in the door, hoping the smell of fries and a burger was not wafting too strongly out of her backpack as she hurried to her spot in the far back corner of the second floor. It was 6pm and there were only a handful of students scattered about at the tables, heads buried in their laptops. It was always like that on Saturday night. They didn’t even glance up at her and she preferred it that way.
She settled down, laptop open in front of her and pulled her food out of her bag, being as quiet as possible. The grouchy ass librarian would no doubt throw her out if he caught her with food. Crux was an asshat like that.
She was halfway through her burger and fully engrossed in typing out responses in the discussion board for one of her classes when someone sat down in the chair across from her. She looked up and nearly choked on a fry as Harrow stared back at her.
“Uh…” Gideon blinked, not sure what to say.
“You’ve been avoiding me, Griddle,” was the first thing that Harrow says and it’s true of course. But Gideon wasn’t about to admit that. That she had gone out of her way all week to ensure she didn’t run into Harrow. That she’d stayed in her apartment anytime she didn’t have to be in class or at work and even when she was, the second she caught sight of Harrow’s dark head, she would slip into the back for her ‘break’.
“How could I possibly be avoiding you, it’s not like we hang out and have plans or anything…” This was technically not a lie but she still felt bitter about it for some reason she had been firmly refusing to examine. She watched Harrow’s brows wrinkle and her perpetual frown dip further.
“Perhaps…” Harrow’s voice came out clipped and sharp as broken glass and Gideon did her best not to flinch. “Yet you’re usually here every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday evening and didn’t come any of those days this week,” she said like it was all the damning evidence she needed.
It was as far as they were both concerned. Gideon stuck to her guns, if weakly.
“What, are you keeping track of me?” she scowled at her, defensive, but Harrow was unimpressed and her frown said as much. Gideon tried not to look into the inky recesses of her eyes as she stared back at her, gaze just to the left, cataloguing the piercings in her ear.
“Like me, you are a creature of habit, Griddle,” she said easily and Gideon hated that it was true. She thrived on routine, a surprise to most of her friends. Her chaos was surface level most of the time. “You also won’t look me in the eye.”
Gideon did flinch that time.
“I was busy this week,” she lied uselessly because as soon as she said it, Harrow sighed and leaned back in her chair, watching her with dark, tired eyes that immediately made Gideon feel smaller. Like those eyes could easily see through the words.
Gideon still wouldn’t look her in the eye and finally, Harrow sighed and stood silently, drawing Gideon’s gaze at last.
“Fine. I’ll not bother you anymore then.” She took a step away from the table and Gideon’s heart fell, but was quickly caught in the knotted tangles in her chest.
“Wait!” Gideon jumped up and Harrow stopped. They both stood there, not a foot apart. Harrow’s eyes craned up to look at her, waiting.
Gideon pursed her lips, trying to make them say something, anything really as Harrow waited. They wouldn’t budge.
An annoyed sound ghosted past black painted lips after a mere handful of seconds.
“This is about Monday, yes?” she finally just asked and Gideon managed to nod.
“That’s not what I meant to say,” she finally spat out. “Hold on a second and give me a minute got mixed up in my head and came out as…”
“Hold me a minute…,” Harrow repeated the words from Monday morning and Gideon died a little inside at them. Harrow was here now though and for as much of their conversations were majoraly snipping and needling each other, Gideon didn’t want to lose that. The knots constricted.
“Yes…”
“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it. It’s not like that’s what you meant to say and you could have said as much,” Harrow huffed, crossing her arms. “I’m not so daft as to think you were propositioning me.” She was scowling and if Gideon didn’t know better she would think Harrow almost sounded disappointed by that, the way her eyes flickered to the floor, even as her tone was all needles.
Gideon didn’t say anything, and her silence was apparently very telling because Harrow’s eyes were suddenly very intense, a weird look coming over her face. “... were you?”
“I wasn’t!” Gideon hurried to say. “I would not ‘proposition’ you in the middle of my job,” she said with a grunt, feeling only mildly insulted. “I feel like I deserve more credit than that. I’d ask you on a real date.”
“As if I’d ever agree…” Harrow snapped back. There was a brief pause as they regarded each other. The awkward atmosphere that had been hanging over them had shifted… into what she couldn’t say but it didn’t stop the words suddenly blurting out of her mouth.
“Would you?” she asked, carefully watching the starless night sky of Harrow’s eyes as they stared back at her.
“You’d have to ask first…,” was the reply and normally Gideon would be annoyed at the cagey non-answers but it wasn’t like she wasn’t doing it too. It was going to fall on her now though it seemed.
“Would you go on a date with me?” she asked.
“Yes.” There was no hesitation.
“Oh…” Gideon blinked, shoulders relaxing as tension she hadn’t even been aware of seeped out of her. “Uh…” she scratched her cheek thoughtfully as they stood there in the quiet. Harrow’s small frame, all sharp angles and hard edges also seemed to soften and relax. “You wanna go get coffee?”
“I would.” A little smile had worked its way onto Harrow’s lips and the tangles in Gideon’s chest fell loose.