Aaaaaaand I'm back with pt. 2 of awkward Dactyl/Ida coffee shop stalking poor Alfred.

Given that my own preferred method of dealing with attractive people is either to stare or to exit as fast as humanly possible, I would've thought she'd be easy to write. Nope.

Please excuse any cringe/bad writing and unrealisticness and I hope you enjoy.

—

II.

The second time Ida sees Alfred, it's at the same Starbucks but she is seated at the bar this time.

This time, he has a friend with him and he sticks out like sore thumb.

A loud, energetic, and very much present sore thumb.

Intrigued by him as she is, Ida has to resist the urge to tug on her brush of a ponytail in irritation when he whoops loudly and drapes himself over a quieter blonde. His hair is a little more of a richer blonde and his eyes are a blue so dark that they look purple, but Matthew looks similar enough to Alfred that they might have been twins.

Judging by the resigned line of his lips and the absence of movements to remove the arms around his neck, the two had to be at least related.

"Matthew, come on! You know you love me!"

Ida had to stifle a smile when, a few more seconds of obnoxious laughing later, Matthew finally had enough and gently extricated himself from Alfred's clutches with a look that told the other to shush, we're in a coffee shop and people are working. The other boy grinned in a way that is unobstructed by a white hood and gave no indication of having heard the warning. He adjusted the sleeves of his grey zip-up and scuffed those same red, white, and blue platform sneakers restlessly as the line inched forward.

Unfortunately, the line did not snake past Ida's seat and she had to content herself with peering at the boys through the spaces between the baristas' backs and shoulders as they bustled about making drinks and taking orders. It's as natural of a line of sight as she could get, she supposed, but she wished she could make out what Matthew snarks that sets Alfred into another round of bright, loud laughter.

Soon enough, the pair is at the counter and Ida is close enough to hear their orders. Alfred gets a grande dark roast again while Matthew opts for a tall cappuccino.

The same order twice—is he a creature of routine?

Ida forgets that she is sitting right next to the little inward curve in the speckled beige, white, and black granite counter where customers waited to collect their drinks. Alfred stands close enough for her to catch a whiff of fresh, warm-smelling fabric softener or something and she knocks into the empty chair beside her when she starts. It tips and clatters and she pretends to be engrossed in her kindle Matthew's feet turn ever-so-slightly in her direction as if he was glancing over. When they turn away again she deems it safe to pay less attention to "Dumbledore" and more to sneaking glances out of the corner of her eye.

I wonder what he does everyday, if he has a routine. Alfred jostles the strap of his backpack as if its contents were heavy. Studies a lot, probably. Hangs out with friends, maybe.

Ida pressed a smile at her newfound shamelessness against the rim of her now-cold coffee.

Works out, definitely. A bit too lanky to be a successful football player—basketball or track looked more likely. She taps the screen with her thumb, not really reading but also not wanting to be caught on the same page for five minutes.

"You think they ran out of dark roast beans?" She hears Alfred mumble beside her, now stamping his feet and hunching his shoulders as if he were cold. In contrast to his previous exuberance, he now sounded just a little pouty about having been made to wait. Matthew sighed and ran a hand through his bangs.

"You wouldn't taste the difference." At this, his companion harrumphed and returned to grumpily staring at the counter.

Cute. Ida blinked at the unprovoked thought, then relaxed when she remembers that she's been thinking it since she first saw him. Very cute.

"One grande dark roast for Alfred and one tall cappuccino for…" She raises her head to watch the barista squint in confusion at the letters sharpied on the small white cup.

"... Bartholomew!" He said finally and confidently, drawing a snigger from Alfred as he steps forward. Matthew makes no reaction to his butchered name that Ida could hear, but then they were both sweeping back out of the store. She tries to ignore the small stab of disappointment when the smell of warm-detergent recedes and café air reasserts itself as the dominant scent.

Back to reading it is.

—

Matthew heaved his umpteenth sigh of the day as he trudged out of the Starbucks with a murmured thanks to the couple that holds the door. In front of him, his twin brother, brows furrowed, was already gingerly attempting sips out of his steaming cup of unadulterated, bitter death after removing the lid.

"Did you know that girl who was staring at you?" The slightly shorter blond asked, stepping out of the way of incoming customers.

"Nope! But I don't mind! Girl's gotta look when something this nice walks by, right?" Alfred beamed proudly.

Matthew sighs again.

—

If you are seeing this, I will assume that you somehow made it to the end of the chapter. Thank you for sticking around for this long and I hope to see you again!

Have a wonderful day :)