lil grad student and instructor lulu meet cute?? anyone want food?
It’s packed, as is always the case on a sunny morning like this one. It only gets worse as summer term draws to a close. Every faculty member and disheveled grad student within a 10-minute radius of the cafe tucked in the shadow of the massive university library seems to be here—sleep deprived, on the verge of being late to class, and looking to you, disheveled grad student yourself, for remedy.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. After spending the majority of your days thinking too deeply about “what causes humans to suffer” and how you specifically can aid them in suffering less, the bustle and lack of emotionality offer a reprieve. Allowing yourself to relent on any one of your duties means suddenly the line is out the door and near impossible to alleviate until 11 a.m., putting you at risk of being tardy for your own class. That feels comparatively low stakes. As the cafe hums, you slip into something like a meditative state, letting your hands take charge for a change.
You’re deep in autopilot when you spring to man the suddenly empty register. Eyes locked on the screen, you beckon for the next customer absentmindedly, only to find yourself looking up at the gorgeous adjunct from the math department you thought disappeared. Your mouth drops open. The two of you spent all fall bantering, heating, but never managed to move it outside the cafe. You’d spent all of the next semester chastising yourself for not managing to get his number.
“Hey,” he nods, light brown eyes glinting.
The grin that follows genuinely makes your heart stutter. No wonder you spent months ignoring every other prospect, even when you feared you’d never see him again.
“Oh, hey!” you reply at far too high a volume.
“—it’s been a while—“ you chime on top of one another, awkward overlap bringing both of you to a halt.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, recovering quickly. He rubs the back of his neck. “Got pulled away on a fellowship thing and couldn’t teach spring semester.”
“Which means I actually have two weeks with nothing to do,” he continues, planting his hands on the register. You’ve never had a chance to look at them this closely before. His fingers are long, nearly engulfing the phone tucked beneath them. Your skin warms.
He leans in conspiratorially, a dark green cotton tee hugging his rounded pectorals. “Guess I just missed some parts of campus too much to stay away.”
He looks you in the eye meaningfully, capturing his lower lip between his teeth and cocking his head. A dare. You forgot how fun this was.
“Hmm,” You reply, feigning contemplation as you sweep your hair off your shoulder. Thank god yesterday was blowout day. “Be a shame if you didn’t find a way to fill that time.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” he agrees. “But I’m so spent from course planning, I could really use some help coming up with ideas.”
Someone pushes in from behind, tearing you from your revery.
“Shit. Now I’m being rude,” he grimaces.
“Medium black coffee with room, right?” You remember, grabbing a paper cup. “Let me get that going for you.”
You sneak a glance over his shoulder. The line has already doubled since he arrived.
Fuck it, you think. No fixing that now.
You steal an extra minute, grabbing a napkin and scrawling down your number, punctuated with your name. Not letting yourself miss this one again.
You set the steaming drink in front of him with one hand, holding the napkin out for him with the other.
“Guess some parts of campus missed you, too.” You flash him your flirtiest, most sincere smile before herding your coworker up to finish the transaction. For a beat, he’s frozen, staring down at the napkin clutched in his hand.
“Looking forward to fixing that soon,” he says, collecting himself, as you wave over your shoulder.
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