Work Text:
There’s a coffee place nearby your apartment building that you like to go to on your days off. Inside, there’s a table near the corner, where no one bothers you, so you often bring your laptop to do some work on your days off. It’s a nice spot, not too much sunlight, not in the middle of the shop either. No one can see what you’re working on from there.
Today, there’s a man taking it.
You sigh, annoyed. It’s the same guy from last week. He sits at your favorite spot, sipping from his coffee, eating his chocolate croissant and on his phone. Sometimes, he doesn’t even bring his phone, just stares at nowhere in particular, deep in thought. Sometimes, he brings a book, or something to read.
It’s been happening for three weeks straight. Whenever you come, he’s already there. Irritation creeps in your chest and you take a deep breath.
Relax, you tell yourself. It’s just a table and you’re an adult. You can take another table. It’s fine. It’s totally—no it’s not. You’re already walking over to him before you can stop yourself.
“Are you here every Thursday?” You don’t even say hello, or excuse me.
The man looks up from his book, eyes over his glasses, surprised someone is actually talking to him. “Uh… I think so?”
“You keep taking my table.” You’re very aware you sound like a child. But you don’t care.
“Your… table?”
“Yeah.”
“You know this isn't assigned seating, right?” He glances around the café.
“I am aware.”
“Okay.” He laughs softly and, for some reason, it only irritates you more. “Just checking.”
You huff out a breath, waiting. Ryland glances around the café again, the corner of his mouth twitching. When he realizes you’re serious, he swallows hard.
“Oh. You’re not joking.”
You take a deep breath. “I’m not.”
There’s a pause between the both of you, charged with tension from your side. He, for once, seems to be having fun.
“Do you want me to move?” He raises his eyebrows in question.
That catches you by surprise. “I— that’s not—“
What are you even doing? Arguing over a table?
You frown, staring daggers at him. He just looks at you with a sarcastic smile on his lips. He’s so annoying and you don’t even know his name.
“Whatever.” You roll your eyes and turn your back, walking away.
A soft laugh follows you across the café. When you glance back, Ryland is still watching you settle at a table on the opposite side of the room.
You ignore him and open your laptop. Across the room, Ryland picks up his coffee and tries to go back to his book, but he can’t anymore.
At first, he tells himself it’s because you made a scene. Most people don’t walk up to complete strangers and accuse them of stealing a table. It’s… memorable. Then he notices the way you keep glancing over. Every time you do, your expression sours when you see he’s still sitting there.
Ryland bites back a smile.
Thursdays are supposed to be simple. Reading, coffee, and thinking. No grading, no lesson plans, no school paperwork. Just a few uninterrupted hours to himself before the week starts all over again. Yet somehow, now that you’ve shown up, he can’t stop looking over at you.
…
The next Thursday, he arrives ten minutes earlier than usual.
When you walk through the door, your eyes immediately find the corner table before landing on him. The look on your face is priceless. Ryland lifts his coffee cup in greeting and you glare in response, which only makes him smile into the drink.
The week after that, it happens again, and the week after that too.
Soon enough, he finds himself looking forward to it. Every Thursday, you walk into the café, spot him at the table, and visibly deflate. Sometimes you roll your eyes. Sometimes you shake your head. Once, you actually turn around and leave before coming back five minutes later.
Maybe it’s a little childish, and maybe he should offer you the table, but watching you discover he’s already there has somehow become his favorite part of the week.
He likes the way you glare at him every time. It’s cute, really. And he has to admit that you’re beautiful.
He’s thought about introducing himself more than once, maybe asking for your name, inviting you to sit with him for a few minutes, but he has a feeling you wouldn’t be interested in talking to the guy who keeps stealing your table every Thursday. So the weeks pass.
Until you don’t show up. Ryland hates the way he keeps looking at the door every time the bell chimes, kind of hoping you’d walk through it. A small part of him always expects you’d walk in and give him that annoyed look, familiar by now.
When he leaves, he feels vaguely disappointed.
You don’t show up the next week as well. Or the one after that. By the third Thursday, he gives up the corner table and sits somewhere else instead. He supposes if you walk in, you should at least be able to reclaim the spot you’ve spent weeks glaring at him over.
But you never do.
After a while, he starts to think you’ve found another coffee shop to go to. That you’ve given up your favorite spot. The thought makes his chest ache with something weird.
And then, after three weeks missing, you finally walk through the doors.
Your hair is different. Your clothes too. You have a crossbody bag over your shoulders, instead of your usual laptop bag. And you don’t look up at him. You walk straight to the queue forming, to get a coffee to go.
Ryland frowns, confused. Is he even looking at the same person? It’s like you’ve forgotten your little rivalry. He doesn’t know why he’s so upset about it.
He watches as you get your order, pay, and then move aside to wait for your name to be called. Before he can think too hard about what he’s doing, he’s already standing and making his way across the café toward you.
“Hey.”
You startle slightly and turn around. It takes you a second to place him without the corner table between you. Up close, he’s taller than you thought. His eyes are also blue behind those stupid glasses. Something you hadn’t noticed until now.
“H-Hi.”
Ryland realizes he didn’t really think this through. He just stares at you and he stares back.
“You disappeared.” He blurts out.
“Uh…” you frown. He noticed it? “Yeah, I—yeah.”
Ryland rubs the back of his neck, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “Sorry. That sounded weird.”
There’s an awkward pause between the two of you. You’re reserved and wary, which is fair. This man is still a stranger and the only thing you know about him is that he liked to taunt you after stealing your favorite spot.
Ryland opens his mouth to try again, but your name is called from the counter. You step away to grab your drink, thanking the barista before returning a moment later.
“So you’re not staying?” He asks, nodding to the free table. “Your table is available…”
Your eyes dart to the spot you used to sit on Thursdays.
“No.”
You turn to leave, but hesitate. A soft exhale leaves your lips as you turn back around. He looks like a confused and sad puppy, concern written all over his face. As if this man is genuinely worried about you disappearing for a month.
“I don’t have Thursdays off anymore, so…” You trail off.
“Oh.”
“Because I got fired.”
His expression immediately falls. “Oh. No.”
You shrug, trying to make it seem like less of a big deal than it actually was. “Also my cat died.”
Ryland blinks.
“And my boyfriend dumped me the same week.” The shrug turns into a helpless little gesture. “So, you know. It’s been a month.”
For a moment, he just stares at you. Then, every Thursday comes rushing back at once. Every smug smile, every wave with his coffee cup, every time he got there early to taunt you. Every time he watched you walk in and look disappointed because he was sitting there.
Ryland’s stomach churns with guilt.
“I’m—I’m sorry.”
“Eh, I’ll live.” You shrug again and offer him a smile. “Guess that spot is all yours now.”
It’s like you twist a knife in his stomach. Ouch.
“It was nice seeing you.” You add when he just stands there staring at you.
“Yeah,” he says automatically. “You too.”
You give him one last smile before turning and heading for the door. Ryland watches you leave the coffee shop, the bell chiming softly overhead as it swings shut behind you.
Well.
At least he knows your name now.
…
Alright, you lied to him.
You were being honest about losing your job, though. The weeks you disappeared from the café were some of the most stressful of your life. Between updating your résumé, filling out applications, and checking your email every five minutes, you barely had the energy to think about much else.
Eventually, after applying to what felt like every company in the city, you ended up somewhere completely different from where you thought you'd be: a small library in a cute middle school.
So now, you’re a librarian.
The library is quiet, and you're surrounded by books all day, which is hardly something to complain about. The kids are pretty great too, all things considered. They're loud sometimes and very dramatic but they're also funny sometimes.
“Miss?” A voice interrupts your thoughts.
“Hey, Ethan, what’s up?” You say, smiling down at the boy.
Ethan has been a regular ever since the school year started. He’s only in fifth grade, but he’s already read more science books than most adults. Today, he’s looking for the Solar System encyclopedia again.
As you scan the barcode and stamp the return date inside the cover, you glance up at him. “Do you want to be a scientist when you grow up?”
He nods eagerly. “Just like Mr. Grace.”
You pause. You’d heard that name more times than you could count since starting at the school. Students talked about him constantly, teachers mentioned him in passing, even the office staff had stories. Somehow, though, you’ve never actually met him. All you really knew was that he taught science, the students adored him, and, according to more than one coworker, he was fairly popular with their mothers too.
“You go, kid.” You hand Ethan the encyclopedia back with a smile. “Follow your dreams.”
He thanks you, hugs the book to his chest, and disappears back into the hallway. You watch him go, then sigh.
Whoever Mr. Grace is, he certainly has a fan club.
…
It isn’t until a few days later that you run into him.
The principal had insisted everyone attend the staff meeting, teachers and support staff alike, even though most of it had nothing to do with you. Budget updates, school events, standardized testing schedules. You mostly sat there wondering if you should order takeout or try to cook something for dinner tonight.
At least there’s coffee afterward.
You’re halfway into pouring yourself some into a styrofoam cup, when you hear his voice behind you.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
You jump, nearly spilling hot coffee everywhere, and turn around. Ryland’s eyes meet yours and you open your mouth in surprise.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, giving you an apologetic smile. “The coffee here tastes like ink, so I thought I’d give you a heads up.”
You furrow your brows, still a little confused. What is he doing here?
“You know.” He continues when you don’t respond. “If you’re looking for good coffee, I know a place nearby that has a great corner table.”
A soft laugh escapes your lips and your eyes drift down, to his dark gray suit and ID hanging from his neck.
Grace, Ryland. Teacher.
“Mr. Grace,” you say, a smile slowly spreading across your face. “Of course. You’re Mr. Grace!”
Ryland frowns, equal parts amused and confused.
“Yeah, that’s me.” He looks down at his id for a second. “What… What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing!” You wave your free hand. “It’s just… I’ve heard a lot about you ever since I started working here.”
His eyebrows lift. “You have?”
“From the students.” A smile tugs at your lips. “They really love you. You have quite the reputation around here.”
He ducks his head with an almost bashful smile, the faintest hint of pink creeping across his cheekbones. It catches you off guard. You’d expected him to lean into it, maybe crack another joke, but instead he looks genuinely embarrassed by the compliment.
“Well,” he says with a small shrug, “I try.”
You can’t help but laugh softly. For someone the entire school seemed to adore, he was humble.
“So…” Ryland says after a moment, nodding toward the lanyard hanging around your neck. “You work here now?”
“Y-Yeah.” You lift your badge with an awkward little smile. “I’ve been here for about two months. I’m the librarian.”
“What a crazy coincidence,” he says, a half smile on his lips.
Warmth spreads unexpectedly through your chest.
“Yeah…” You glance down at your coffee before looking back up at him. “Small world.”
There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. Around you, teachers begin filing out of the staff room, conversations blending together with the scrape of chairs and the clink of coffee cups. Someone says goodbye, another complains about the copier on the second floor, and little by little the room starts to empty. Neither of you moves.
Ryland shifts his weight, glancing down at the coffee in your hand before looking back at you.
“So…” He lets out a quiet breath through his nose. “Good to see you.”
You nod, the knot on your stomach slowly dissolving into something else.
“Yeah.” You give him a tight smile, swallowing down a weird emotion you haven’t felt in a long time. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
Ryland gives you one last smile before turning to leave, leaving with the bitter taste of disappointment in the back of your throat.
…
To be fair, you did treat him like garbage last time you saw him.
You accused him of stealing your table, stormed off in a huff, then months later lied straight to his face about your life falling apart. If anyone had reason to keep their distance, it was Ryland.
Still… when you saw him again at the school, you thought, you hoped he’d ask you out. You don’t know why. You don’t even know Ryland.
All you know is that he used to steal your favorite spot every Thursday morning, that he'd wave at you with his coffee just to get on your nerves, and that somewhere along the way your silly little rivalry had become the highlight of your week.
It was annoying at first, but now you look back with fondness in your heart. Maybe you miss it.
It’s a Saturday morning, and you’re sitting at your favorite spot at the café for the first time in months. A warm cup of your favorite coffee sits in front of you, still untouched.
Before you can wallow any further, a voice reaches your ears, startling you a little.
“You’re in my spot.”
Looking up, you see Ryland standing there with a smile on his face. A slow smile spreads on your face and you laugh softly.
“This isn’t assigned seating,” you respond, making him laugh.
“Right, my bad.” He smiles down at you, pointing at the seat across from you. “Can I…?”
“Of course!” You answer, a little too quickly.
He settles down in front of you, and you adjust your posture.
“So how do you like the library at school?” He asks, sipping his coffee.
“It’s great.” You smile at him. “Much quieter than my last job.”
The conversation falls into an easy rhythm after that. You talk about the school, the students, the teachers you've met, and the principal who insists on sending emails that could've been one sentence instead of six paragraphs. It's surprisingly easy. Easier than it has any right to be.
Ryland takes another sip of his coffee before clearing his throat.
“I’m sorry again about your cat,” Ryland says after clearing his throat. You blink, caught by surprise. “I kinda feel bad about hoarding this spot every Thursday while you were going through... all that.”
“Oh.” You laugh softly, then swallow hard, smile faltering. “Yeah, about that…”
Ryland frowns, a little confused. “What?”
You stare down into your coffee for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “So... I lied to you.”
He pauses, frowning in confusion.
“I’ve never had a cat.” You confess. “And I didn't have a boyfriend either.”
For a second, he just stares at you.
“I did lose my job,” you add quickly, looking up again. “That part was true. I promise.”
A laugh escapes him before he can stop it. “So... you just invented a dead cat?”
You laugh too, a little relieved to see his smile.
“I wanted you to feel bad about taking my spot…” You admit, biting your lower lip.
He just laughs harder. Your heart skips a beat at the sound.
“Sorry.”
“You don't have to apologize to me.” He shakes his head, wiping a tear from his eye as the laughter dies down. “Losing your job is hard enough without feeling like you have to explain yourself to some random guy from a coffee shop.”
You smile at him, cheeks warm. “Thanks.”
He smiles back.
“For what it's worth,” he says, “I'm glad the library worked out.”
“So am I.” You nod, feeling the same warmth in your chest again.
You and Ryland keep talking until neither of you notices the café slowly emptying around you. At some point, your coffees are replaced with fresh ones. Then pastries somehow make their way to the table. The conversations drift effortlessly from work to childhood stories, favorite books, embarrassing college moments, and the students who somehow manage to ask the most impossible questions with complete sincerity.
You laugh more than you have in months.
It’s strange. You’ve only spoken to Ryland a handful of times, yet sitting across from him feels oddly familiar. Maybe it’s because you’ve been sharing the same Thursday mornings for months without really knowing each other. Maybe it’s because you've spent so long wondering who the other person was that finally getting answers feels... easy.
By the time one of the baristas starts wiping down the tables around you, the afternoon sunlight has faded into the warm orange glow of early evening. You glance toward the window, surprised to find the streets outside bathed in sunset.
“Guess we’ve been here for a while,” you say, gathering your things.
“Guess we have.” Ryland slips his jacket on before glancing at you. “Can I walk you home?”
Your heart does a stupid little flip.
“Sure.” You smile, hoping he doesn't notice the warmth creeping into your cheeks. As you sling your bag over your shoulder, you reach for your wallet. “Let me just pay—”
“I got it.”
Before you can react, Ryland plucks the receipt from your fingers and heads toward the register.
“Ryland.” You hurry after him, reaching for the slip, but he simply lifts it out of your reach with an amused smile. “You don't have to.”
“I know.”
“Then give it back.”
“No.”
You huff out a laugh, making one last, half-hearted attempt to snatch the receipt from his hand. He effortlessly holds it higher, looking far too pleased with himself.
“I insist,” he says. “You can get the next one.”
The next one.
The words settle warmly in your chest before you can stop them. You laugh, shaking your head.
“Fine.”
The two of you step outside, greeted by the cool evening air. The sidewalks are still busy despite the setting sun, people lingering outside restaurants and cafés while others make their way home. Ryland falls into step beside you without asking which direction to go, waiting until you point down the street before matching your pace.
The conversation gradually gives way to a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn't need to be filled with small talk. Every now and then one of you points something out—a dog wearing a tiny sweater or a couple arguing over which restaurant to try—but mostly, you're content to enjoy each other’s company.
“This is me,” you say, stopping in front of your apartment building. You turn to face him, suddenly wishing the walk had been just a little longer. “Today was fun.”
“Yeah,” Ryland agrees, smiling back at you. “It was.”
Neither of you moves.
For a brief moment, you’re both just standing there, neither quite sure how to end the afternoon. You wonder if he’s going to say something else. He looks like he might. Instead, he slips his hands into his jacket pockets and rocks back on his heels.
“So…”
“So…” You repeat, tightening the grip on your bag.
He lets out a quiet laugh.
“I’ll see you at work?”
You nod, trying not to let your disappointment show. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”
Ryland smiles one last time before turning to leave. You watch him walk a few steps down the sidewalk before heading inside, fishing your keys out of your bag.
It isn’t until you’re unlocking the door that you hear hurried footsteps behind you.
“Wait!”
You turn around. Ryland is standing there again, slightly out of breath, looking vaguely embarrassed.
“I…” He lets out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I should’ve asked…”
“Asked what?”
“If you’d want to do this again.”
Your heart skips and a smile slowly spreads across your face.
“I’d like that.” You answer, a bit too excited.
His shoulders visibly relax. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
This time, when he walks away, neither of you can stop smiling. When you look over your shoulder, you see Ryland fist bumping the air. A small laugh escapes you before you enter the building.