Chapter Text
The world is ending.
At least that’s the conclusion that Lara Jean comes up with when she rams straight into the corner of someone else’s coffee table (which—by the way—hurts to the stars and back because it was a corner, and)—
The bewilderment on her unassuming victim’s face snaps her back to the present and the embarrassing reality she finds herself in. She winces when she looks into his eyes and when she looks down, just a smidge, she sees the physical, messy consequences of running into someone’s coffee table.
Spilt coffee.
It creeps across the table, reaching towards the forgotten paper on it, but he moves with a quick nimbleness and saves it before it had the chance to stain more than just a corner.
“O-Oh my gosh—” Her lips are trembling as she tries and tries to calm herself down to form anything coherent. “I-I’m so so so sorry-” She grabs a handful of napkins left on a holder and starts to soak the liquid with it.
“It’s alright.” The boy half-smiles at her; the right side of his lips quirks up. It isn’t genuine, but it’s an attempt to make her feel better. “Really, it’s alright.” His words, on the other hand, are forgiving and lacking any pretense.
This makes her feel worse.
If she could hide in her room and never step foot into New York City again, she would. Forever, if life lets her. But life has been anything but kind lately, and Lara Jean realizes that nothing she asks for comes to fruition.
The pretty barista with the enviable curls behind the counter stares at them for a little before speaking up, “Everything alright?”
Save for the friend she abandoned from one end of the counter to travel all the way to the front to witness the tragedy that transpired, they were the only ones here—probably the only saving grace, the only thing that’s gone right about today, for Lara Jean.
“Do you two need like…” She peeps to the side, looking over Lara Jean and at the mess, then to the boy—who freezes at her gaze. “A towel or something?”
Lara Jean looks back to the table, the oozing remnants of coffee that’s turning sticky, and to the wad of napkins on the table and in her hands. Then she looks to the boy who’s still frozen in place.
“T-That’s alright,” she answers for them when the lack of response from the boy borders a line of awkwardness she isn’t willing to cross with him—she already crossed one today, overstepped by a long shot if anything. “Thanks though!” She adds politely as the girl shrugs and returns to the other side of the counter, returning to her conversation with the guy in the chair.
Lara Jean turns back around, and the boy comes to his senses.
“Here,” he reaches towards the neighboring table to grab more napkins. “Let me.” He takes out a water bottle that looks like it went to war and back, but somehow the Iron Man and NASA stickers survived.
He wets the napkins in his hands and wipes away the remaining coffee.
“There, good as new.”
With her hands now free from wiping stains, they find their way to the hem of her blue skirt, searching for something to focus on as she apologizes to him again, “I’m sorry again—about running into you—I mean—” Eye contact is becoming hard. “Your table.” Then, “Not your table but—” she bit her lip.
He laughs, possibly at her or at the situation or at the fact that this is still happening.
“You’re good. Really.” He looks down at the table. “Can’t even tell what you’re apologizing over, to be honest.”
Finding herself again, she smiles at his quip. “I can get you something to replace your drink?” When he starts to shake his head, she interrupts him. “Please? As a peace offering. And maybe the fact that you must be crazy to conquer the city without caffeine.”
“It’s nearly two in the afternoon.” The corners of his eyes twinkle.
She must be seeing things.
“Then let it be as my attempt to save myself from the humiliation of running into your table with no early morning excuse.”
He smiles at her, really, smiles. “Sure.”
He lets her lead him back to the counter, and when the barista notices, she returns to their side.
The fourth person walks over this time as well, making his way towards the door, “Bye MJ!” He turns his whole body around and does finger guns, “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, okay.” MJ rolls her eyes. “See ya, Ned.” But her smile fights its way through. “Anything I can get you two?”
The boy doesn’t say anything the first second.
Or the second…
And by the tenth—which was how long it took Lara Jean to decide to grab his attention—she brings a nervous finger up and taps his shoulder, over his sweater. He jerks back to the present.
“The menu’s not on my face, dude.” MJ laughs, but it’s awkward and devoid of any humor.
His eyes widen, and he brings out a hand to apologize, “What? Oh! Oh my god—I’m so—I didn’t mean to, I just zoned out, and… I’m so so sorry.”
“No worries…”She nods, and an expression Lara Jean is all too familiar with crosses her face: judgment. “So what can I get you?”
“Just… black coffee.”
“Any milk or sugar?”
“Neither, please.”
“Alright, that’ll be three twenty.”
Lara Jean stands there for a couple more seconds, waiting. But when it becomes clear that he isn’t intending on getting something else, she asks, “Anything else?”
He shakes his head.
“Alright then, I’ll have a chai latte please.”
“To go or here?”
Lara Jean looks at the boy, waiting for his answer. The truth is, she wants to find out more about him because—
“To go.”
Welp. There goes that chance.
“Alright.” MJ turns to her. “And you?”
Hoping the barista doesn’t see the disappointment on her face, she smiles, “Same.”