Written into Love

Chapter 4: The Coffee Date

The day of the coffee date arrived, and I swear, I spent more time in front of my closet than I did writing my entire thesis in college. I mean, what do you even wear when you might have magically written your date into existence? I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard, but I also didn't want to look like I'd just rolled out of bed. After changing outfits five—okay, six—times, I settled on something casual but nice: jeans, a slightly oversized sweater, and boots. I figured it screamed, "I'm effortlessly cool" instead of, "I might have summoned you with a magic pen."

I arrived at the coffee shop a few minutes early, nervously glancing at the door every few seconds. What if Ling didn't show up? What if the magic was already wearing off and she just... disappeared? I was halfway through imagining a dramatic exit where I tearfully explain to the barista why I'm sitting alone when she walked in, and I nearly spilled my coffee.

There she was. Ling, in her usual bright yellow dress that somehow looked even better indoors. She waved when she spotted me, and her smile—it was like the sun just rose inside the café. My heart did that annoying thud thing it always does when I see her. Magic or not, she was perfect.

"Hey," she greeted, sliding into the seat across from me. "Sorry I'm late. Tofu was convinced the leash was a chew toy, and there was a whole battle of wills. I lost."

I laughed, trying to ignore the way her presence seemed to make everything brighter. "It's fine, really. I was just preparing myself for a dramatic monologue about being stood up."

She smirked. "You? Dramatic? Never."

"Hey, I can be dramatic when the situation calls for it," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Like when there's only one croissant left, and the guy in front of me takes it."

"Oh, I can imagine that. Very Shakespearean of you," Ling said, leaning back in her chair and eyeing me playfully. "Let me guess, you stand up and shout, 'Et tu, croissant thief?'"

I couldn't help but snort at that, which immediately made me feel less smooth, but Ling was laughing too, so I rolled with it.

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that, like we'd known each other for years instead of just a few days. It was almost scary how comfortable I felt with her. We talked about everything—our jobs, the weirdest things our pets had ever done (apparently Tofu once got his head stuck in a cereal box for an entire hour), and our embarrassing childhood stories. I even told her about the time I tried to run away from home because my mom wouldn't let me eat ice cream for breakfast. I made it three blocks before I got hungry and came back.

She laughed so hard at that, she nearly spilled her coffee, and I just sat there, grinning like an idiot. The sound of her laughter was infectious. It felt like every little moment, every joke, was pulling us closer.

At one point, I glanced down at my coffee cup and realized I hadn't even touched it. I'd been so focused on Ling that I completely forgot about everything else. When I looked back up, she was watching me, a soft smile on her lips. My stomach did that weird fluttery thing again, and for the first time, I wasn't thinking about whether or not I had written her into my life. I was just there, with her, in the moment.

"So," she said, resting her chin in her hand and giving me that look—the one that makes me forget how to form sentences. "What's the deal with you and writing? I remember you mentioning it in passing, but you never really explained."

Oh no. Writing. That's where all this started, wasn't it? My brain flashed to the magical pen sitting at home, and suddenly I was hyper-aware of how much power my words had. But I couldn't exactly say, "Oh, you know, I dabble in fiction, and by the way, I think I accidentally wrote you into existence."

So, I opted for something a bit more... normal.

"I write for fun," I said, trying to sound casual. "Stories, mostly. I've always had a wild imagination, so it kind of became an outlet. You know, creating worlds where things actually go the way I want them to."

Ling's eyes sparkled with interest. "That's amazing. I've always admired people who can create like that. I can barely manage a grocery list without getting distracted."

I chuckled. "Trust me, I've had my fair share of grocery list disasters. One time, I accidentally wrote 'carrots' twice and forgot the milk completely. Ended up with two bags of carrots and nothing to drink."

She laughed again, and I swear, the sound did something to my insides. "Well, if you ever need someone to test-read your stories, I'm available. I can offer excellent commentary, like 'more dog characters, please.'"

"Noted," I said with a grin. "I'll make sure to include a canine hero in the next one."

The conversation drifted back to lighter topics, and soon we were discussing our favorite movies. Turns out, we both had a weakness for cheesy rom-coms. We even spent a good five minutes debating the merits of Hugh Grant's awkward charm.

But then, as we were finishing up our coffees, Ling suddenly leaned forward, her tone a little more serious but still playful. "Okay, so I have to know... if you could write the perfect love story, how would it go?"

My throat went dry. Of course, she'd ask that. It was the kind of question she'd ask, the same way I'd written her character to be curious and bold, but now it felt like a challenge.

I swallowed, thinking carefully about my answer. "I guess... it would be about two people who meet in the most random, unexpected way. Maybe one of them doesn't even realize they're looking for love until it's right in front of them. And the other person would be... kind, funny, someone who just gets them, you know? They'd have their ups and downs, but they'd always come back to each other. They'd make each other laugh every day."

Ling smiled softly, and I could feel the air between us shift, just a little.

"And what happens in the end?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I met her gaze, feeling like I was standing on the edge of something big. "In the end?" I said, leaning in just a little. "They live happily ever after, of course."

Ling smiled, but this time it wasn't playful or teasing. It was warm and soft, the kind of smile that made my chest tighten in the best possible way.

"Well," she said, finishing the last sip of her coffee. "I think that's a story I'd like to read."

And just like that, it felt like the distance between us had disappeared entirely. I didn't care if I had written her into existence or if this was all some strange coincidence. At that moment, with her sitting across from me, laughing and smiling, it all felt real.

Maybe it was.