Work Text:
Serena looks out the cafe window. Families and couples are huddling around a river, snapping photos, and licking ice cream. She’s drinking a latte. She asked for double sugar and cream, with extra whipped cream on top. It might’ve been a bit too much. Serena puts the cup down and leans back.
Here, she’s a nobody. Not a single person has walked up to her to say hi. Even the waitress who gave her the coffee could barely spare a glance. Poughkeepsie couldn’t be more different from New York City. Everyone seems to stroll casually, wearing a backward cap and pale pink shorts. And Serena’s blending in.
There’s not much to do. The waitress is squeezing in and out around the tables, greasy hair tied back. She’s setting down another cup of coffee, and a table overrun by scrambled papers and other coffee mugs. The guy occupying it has stubble running along his face, and frizzy curls falling down his forehead. A pen rolls to the ground with a clink. He doesn’t notice, and it stays there.
Serena watches him work for a bit. He’s in this hyper-focused mode, piecing the pages into a pile. He seems like a writer. Writers seem like the type to like working in a coffee shop, where the only thing you can smell is caffeine. At least Dan did. But they’re not speaking right now.
What are you supposed to do when your high-school sweetheart and best friend get it with each other? She tried to be the bigger person, tried to be supportive. They’d kiss, hug, whisper sweet-nothing, and she’d smile. But with every new day, she saw them less and less. There was no time for her anymore. It didn’t matter that Dan was her boyfriend first, or that when she slept with her boyfriend Blair outed her for a non-existent drug problem. Just that they were in love. Blair was kinda right though. She’s tempted to tell them she overdosed on a cheap economy train seat with one of Damien’s lackeys, but what would be the point?
They haven’t texted or called her once. Hell, not even Nate has. Chuck did, once, but it was just to ask about Blair, and she still hasn’t forgotten what sleaze he is.
She swirls her drink around, about three-quarters full, watching the ice click against the glass. A chime goes off, and Serena looks up to see the door open. In comes a guy, wearing a pale grey suit, hair slightly tussled from the wind, and staring straight at her. He snaps his sunglasses off, raises his eyebrows and walks over. To her. He takes a seat like it’s nothing, and Serena can’t help but turn away.
Outside, through the window, the clouds are shifting. They’re getting darker and closer together.
“I haven’t seen you around before.”
Serena doesn’t answer.
“I like spending the mornings here sometimes, just before work. It’s peaceful, gives me time to breathe you know?”
Before she can say anything, the waitress comes. The guy orders an Americano. Then they fall into silence, for a couple of minutes.
“Sorry I’ll just go. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
Serena turns her head and reaches for his hand. A little too quickly. “It’s fine.”
His lips curve well, at the top. She asks, “Do you often walk up to random girls you don’t know and sit at their table?”
He grins, “Just the beautiful ones.” His smile’s nice too.
“Isn’t that kind of shallow?
“Yeah, but I’m not as smart as you.”
He leans forward, warm breath draping on her skin. He pushes her hair out of the way, and she lets him. No one’s called her smart in a long time. But it feels kind of good. She laces her fingers with his, holding tight. But then he turns away.
“I have to go to work soon,” he drawls out.
Serena can’t help but feel her stomach drop. She takes back her hand and takes a swig from her coffee. It tastes sickly sweet.
He gets up and turns around. But then he takes his seat again and asks, scratching his head, “But if you want to go to a bar later…”
He’s nervous. He’s just nervous. Serena smiles, and nods, “Yeah, I’d like that.”
A grin breaks out on his face again, “Great!”
Serena slips a hand into her pocket and takes out a coin. She traces the etched-in markings with her nails, before pressing it in her palm and letting it go. It’s to celebrate being one week sober, but she doesn’t really need it anymore. Alcohol’s not that big of a deal after all.
His eyes are warm, a hazel infused with caramel and coffee shades. It’s kind of like her latte. She gazes into it, watching the different colors blur in one. He doesn’t seem to mind.
Serena briefly looks back at the guy from before, the one who looks like a writer. He’s now pulling at his hair as he stares at a fallen coffee cup leaking onto his papers. And he still hasn’t noticed the pen he’s dropped. Serena feels a hand interlace with her and looks back up into the hazel eyes.
“So, can I get a name?”
Serena nods, “Uhh, yeah. Yeah.”
She doesn’t want him to search her up. He doesn’t need to know everything after all. They only just met. Serena will tell him later if it comes to that.
“Sabrina. My name’s Sabrina,” she squeezes his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Sabrina. I’m Steven.”