... this chapter was fun but so difficult to write lol
Any feedback is helpful, but I think we all know the drill. Thank you for choosing to spend your limited time on earth in my honestly-below-average fic.
More notes at the end!
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III.
Another Wednesday, another chapter to submit. Even the watery sunlight streaming in through the half-closed blinds couldn't stop Ida's eyelids from falling all the way shut. Shaking her head, she reached out and pressed the icy cold plastic of the iced coffee to her cheek. The condensation left a wet mark and she swiped it off roughly with her sleeve.
It took a second for her, blinking dumbly, to register the faint beige mark of tinted moisturiser on the brown fabric. And there goes Callie's favourite hoodie. Oops.
Only three more scenes to go before it's a wrap, her brain urged, but her characters were being so non-compliant and not doing what she wanted them to. Ida sighs.
As much as they were her fictional babies, they were killing her carefully-planned plot and she was watching it go down the drain. It was a slow day and she returned the barista's friendly smile before watching the younger girl wring out the dishcloth that she'd used to wipe down the counter. She slung it over a hook and walked over to the bar where Ida was sitting, wiping her hands on her green apron as she approached.
"Writer's block?" She asked in a tone that hinted at having gone through similar struggles. Ida laughed, more a sharp exhalation from her nose than any real sound, as she tilted her head to rest it in the palm of her propped-up hand.
"No, more like a derailing plot."
"Ah," The barista nodded again knowingly before shaking her head to dislodge a stray brown strand of hair from her face. The bell at the door rang and she turned away. "Well, good luck with that." Ida hummed without looking before slouching back into her seat.
A few seconds later, she glanced back down at her keyboard before deciding that she could, in fact, take writing some more. The words flow smoothly, her characters more negotiable in their demands after taking a break, but soon enough they stop saying what she wants them to say again. Ida aggressively deleted an unnecessarily awkward line of dialogue and watched the scene fall flat without it. She didn't need a mirror to tell her that she looked like the picture of resignation, especially given that her midnight deadline was coming up in a few hours. By now, the soft mid-afternoon sunlight had turned slightly orange and she considered simply tying up the chapter because it had to be rewritten and altered hugely anyways in the future—the first draft only has to exist, after all. She settles on this idea and her fingers just touch the keyboard when the doorbell sounds again. In her frazzled, slightly jittery stupor Ida's attention is captured and wanders, eventually fixing on the tall figure stepping alone into the Starbucks at six PM on a Sunday when most sensible students should be hanging out with friends or doing something equally fun.
Alfred continued to ruffle his messy blond hair as he considered the menu overhead, blinking as if he was having trouble making sense of the small white words. His ever-present glasses appeared to be missing until he fished them out of a slim black case. Ida watched the barista greet him cheerfully, fingers poised above the screen at the cash register. A grande dark roast again and she doesn't know what she finds more amusing and endearing, his apparent love for black coffee or his vain attempts at fluffing hair spiked by dried sweat. Even in the middle of chilly October he was wearing a comfortably loose black short-sleeve over gray sweatpants. The plainness of his outfits makes his blond hair and bright blue eyes stand out even more, combining with his general exuberance to the effect of making him look like a miniature sun, complete with a slight halo as the natural light hit him from behind. Almost out of place, really, like the character that enters a scene whenever some major plot change is about to occur.
And on that note, a sudden idea strikes Ida and her fingers begin to move. She lets them even as her eyes continue to wander absently around the Starbucks, taking in the barely visible racks of pastries, dark brown furniture, colourful tumblrs lined up for sale, and the young man who has once again moved to the area next to where she sat to wait for her order. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed as he fiddled with his iPhone, usually-wide eyes squinting at the screen and thumbs moving quickly as if he were firing off a text message. At this distance, Ida could smell vague hints of something clean and see the ghosts of childish chubbiness, however faint, that haunted his cheeks. He looked like the quintessential college student that was always plastered all over college recruitment flyers, all young energy while somehow managing to retain some hint of erudition.
In truth, that last part was probably just because of his thin, square-framed black glasses. If Ida had to be honest, he didn't look like the type to be found in a library, maybe the gym or the basketball court or a wide open field where he can be free to run, long legs pumping him to fly over the ground. Something gave a small flutter in her stomach and she almost laughed at the familiar feeling. A schoolgirl crush. She knew one when she felt one, and it has been a while since she'd ever developed anything so silly.
It was stupid, but Ida couldn't quite bring herself to be embarrassed because she was practical enough to trust herself not to let it get out of hand. Before, she used to be rendered inchoate by situations like the one she was in now but, in this moment, she only felt warm, nostalgic, and endeared.
She put the last question mark in her chapter with flourish, saved, and raised her dilute iced coffee for a sip, mind pleasantly blank.
"You've been looking at me for a while now, so I figured you might have wanted to say hi." Alfred said without looking over, grinning as if he had not just called her out in the most direct way possible. The aforementioned girl froze mid-sip, green straw still between her lips.
This is Ida clocking out. This is Ida wishing that she could turn into a little ball to be swallowed by the earth, cut off from the light forevermore.
"Yes, that's me. Hi." And this is Ida wanting to smash her head into the bar.
"Wow, you're direct, ok. I like that." Alfred blinked. "I'm Alfred."
Ida took his hand in a slight daze, barely registering the grip and vigorous shake before drawing hers back to rest on the counter.
"I'm Ida. Do you go to one of the universities around here? I've seen you around a lot." The sound of her voice jolts her back into reality and she marvels at her own elevated heart rate. She takes deep breaths on purpose and schools her expression into a friendly one to match her companion's casual smile. In comparison to when he was with Matthew, his energy level was restrained even as he nods vigorously.
"Yup! This is the closest coffee shop, so I'm here—thanks, no worries—often." He paused in the middle of his sentence to thank the barista and reassure her that waiting for the fresh pot of coffee was no trouble. "You?"
Ida swirled her ice coffee and filed the fact that he apparently didn't like to reveal much about himself in her newly created mental folder. That's fine, she was just curious.
"I just graduated and am on gap." She said, watching Alfred's eyebrows rise and mouth slacken into a small "o" of surprise. "I was lucky enough to get my second book offer during my last year of university, so I'm currently working to get it published before I move on to graduate work." Ida offers up more information about herself in hopes of more about the young man watching her with interest through lenses that were growing increasingly foggy from the steaming cup of coffee at his lips.
"My alma mater is _. Do you go there now?" Alfred shook his head and Ida tried not to be irrationally disappointed. What did it matter that he is going to a different university?
You're too old for him anyways, says someone in her mind out of nowhere and she balks, both at the suggestion that she was too old and that there was something and someone to be too old for. Luckily, Alfred didn't appear to notice her stutter in attention.
"Nah, but I did apply. _ has a better chemical physics program and I got into both, so I figured it was the better choice." Ida raised a thin blonde eyebrow.
"Chemical physics?" She asked, ignoring the small voice going oh no, he's smart. Her gut had been saying that he didn't look like a liberal arts student, but she hadn't been expecting this either.
"Mm. Can I?" Alfred gestured at the empty seat beside her and she shook her head, moving her laptop before wondering if she did so too hastily. He slipped into the counter stool, elbow bumping lightly into Ida's arm as he shrugged off his black backpack to set it down with a thump in the small space between their chairs. Whereas her feet rested comfortably on the rung of the footrest, Alfred looked almost uncomfortably scrunched.
The proximity also meant that she can now clearly smell the fresh scent of his detergent, faded under a layer of sweat that was thankfully not the kind that would usually make her nose wrinkle in disgust. It fit and she tried to commit the scent to memory. Alfred was sipping at his drink again with a crinkly-eyed smile.
"Yeah, chemical physics. Someone has to invent the materials that make the next spaceship or something, you know." This drew a genuine bubble of laughter from Ida and she unconsciously ducks her chin at the sound, feeling the tiniest amount of heat creep into her cheeks.
"The next spaceship," She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, her averted eyes missing Alfred's as they followed the action. "Does that mean you'll be going into research?"
He nodded again. "Yeah, but that'll be after a gap too. I'll be staying here for grad, but I'm going to be working in industry for a year or two after the next. It's the same place where I did my co-op last year, and I guess they wanted me back. Of course they would."
"Now what about you? What do you do?" He tipped his head, fingers of his free hand threading into the hair at the nape of his neck as he leaned onto his elbow. Ida turned herself to face him more fully as well.
"Well, you know I write so it shouldn't surprise you that I double majored in classics and journalism. I also took many classes in linguistics, but it wasn't enough for another minor." Alfred whistled, expression impressed.
"I didn't know I was in the presence of a genius," He mock-bowed as much as his seat allowed, making Ida laugh again. "Excuse my disrespect, your highness." She raised her chin mock-haughtily, meeting his gaze through a fringe of dark blonde hair.
"You are excused." It takes a second before they both break and dissolve in small giggles that make Alfred's shoulders hunch a little while Ida scrunches her nose and bites her bottom lip. She glances around the coffee shop furtively because the moment feels almost secretive, like an inside joke shared in glances during a lecture as the professor flips through their slides.
The thought suddenly made her miss the feeling even as Alfred straightened beside her and shook his head like a wet dog. His glasses slide even further down his nose and, for a second, their eyes meet over the frame. For some reason, the contact sends them both into a fresh round of snickers. By now, the light from outside has turned blue and the ceiling lamps in the store suddenly seem much more yellow. Gone was the lazy feeling of a Sunday evening to be replaced with something decidedly more intimate but still natural. Ida was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, knees nearly bumping and bodies, not just heads, turned towards each other in a way that made it clear that they were in conversation. She chews her lip as she considers what to talk about next, a bad habit, while picking idly at the calluses on her fingertips. Alfred beats her to it.
"How many ice cubes are appropriate to put in an iced coffee?" He asked, posture back to being lazy. The apparently random question draws a hum from Ida as she considers the curveball, drawing her less-than-extensive experience with cold drinks. Normally, she preferred her doses of caffeine hot enough to scald her tongue a little, but today was an exception.
"A scoopful, not enough to make the drink more ice than coffee." She finally decided and Alfred wrinkled his nose as if he was about to disagree. The ensuing debate is trivial but, somewhere between remarks that make her eyebrows threaten to rise off of her forehead and the young man's unnecessarily detailed mathematical calculations, she had to admit to herself that she was enjoying this.
Alfred was still more stranger than friend, but the way his eyes twinkle with amusement makes her feel comfortable and familiar. His voice was not deep, but it was confident and exuberant even at low volumes, drawing her into his argument even though she knew it was all fluff under the guise of impeccably-structured logic. She would never have pegged him as someone so smart but, alas, she was woefully wrong.
When she told him this as an afterthought, Alfred pouted in mock-hurt.
"I wanted to be a lawyer at some point, y'kn—hey." Ida dropped her own face of mock-surprise with a laugh as Alfred looked away, cheeks a little flushed. There was a sparkle in his eyes that wasn't there before and she shamelessly admired how it lit up his face.
A small sun, indeed, and it was completely focused on her as he set down his nearly-finished coffee. By this time, the evening rush was at its height and the Starbucks was crowded with people coming in for their after-work treat. The noise barely registered.
Ida got the feeling that Alfred's gaze was searching hers and found that she couldn't look away. His eyes lingered for a moment before he suddenly got to his feet, stretching out his back with a series of pops and cracks. For her part, she shook herself and tried not to feel chilly, like the sun had just disappeared behind the clouds.
"Well that was nice." Alfred said, voice distorted by yawn. Ida watched him fondly, noting that he seemed to squirm for a moment before sighing and hoisting his bag onto the chair.
"Thanks for listening, anyways. Mattie always did say I talked too much." He shot her a furtive glance through his bangs. Her stomach does a flip-flop at the shyness and she ignores it, already used to the feeling after having experienced multiple times over the course of their conversation. Truthfully, she was a little sad that he was leaving—it was like being younger and having her first playful back and forth with a boy that she was interested in, except that had happened with embarrassing rarity even when she had the time.
A frozen rose, her former-and-current roommate Astrid had always called her, short brown curls bouncing as she shook her head. It was true, but she almost regretted her inexperience as Alfred straightened to leave.
The bag is halfway up his shoulder when he hesitates again, looking nearly distraught. When he looks down at Ida, who was now in the process of packing up her own bag, there is a slight tension. The coffee shop goes quiet again and she holds her breath, waiting for Alfred to find whatever he was looking for in her face.
"Hey Ida," He says finally, voice a little sheepish and hesitant. It was the sound of someone who was about to ask a favour.
"Yes Alfred?" She replies, a little jokingly, though her heart rate had gone up and she feels a little short of breath. There is a pounding in her ears that she tries to hide with a nonchalant tilt of her eyebrow.
"I see you hear a lot—do you come here often?" Ida exhales, fighting the sinking disappointment in her stomach.
"Yes, I do. It's my preferred writing spot away from my apartment," She breaks the lingering stare to stash her laptop, ensconced in its excessively protective case, into her canvas tote. "I reckon you will see me more often than not every time you come if you glance around."
The slightly lop-sided smirk she throws him is met with no reaction—Alfred was still staring.
"If you stare any harder, I might combust." She told him softly and he laughed, shrugging a shoulder to adjust his backpack straps while shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.
"You wouldn't mind if I came up to talk some other time, right? I really enjoy listening to you talk." Ida tried not to be caught off-guard—she wasn't—but hesitated nonetheless.
"No, not at all, Alfred. I enjoyed talking to you as well." Her answer apparently emboldened him because he proceeded to fish out his cellphone. It's an iPhone in a practical black rubber case, more concerned with protecting the technology within than any kind of frilly decoration. She comments on this and watches the younger man puff up proudly. Function before fashion, he declared, before realising that he was derailing himself.
"Just to keep in touch?" Alfred asked, extending the mobile with a blank contacts template on the screen. Ida hummed in agreement as she entered her name punched in her cell phone number, the fact that this was the first time she was handing out her cell dimly registering in the back of her brain. She tried to beam extra warmly as she handed it back because that meant this was special, however silly that thought was.
"Call me."
"I'll call you."
The pair stared awkwardly at each other for a moment before laughing at their mutual interruption. Looking only too glad to flee, Alfred saluted her goodbye with two fingers as he left Starbucks.
She watched him leave, covering her giggles when he turned again outside and made a face at her through the glass, fingers wiggling like bug legs.
It hadn't taken her long to decide that she really liked Alfred and hopefully, now that he had her contact, this won't be the last she'll see of Alfred.
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Told you they're getting longer. I'm trying not to plunge them straight into being lovebirds, but hopefully they're getting there at a normal pace? I've had a grand total of no experience giving out my phone number before and don't tend to read things where people do, so I have no idea how people do this in real lifelol
As always, thank you so much for your time!