It Was A Whole Thing | Herophine

Fated

December in New York is certainly an experience all on its own. I always love coming here for work but this time of the year is what I always look forward to. I don't mind the cold; I grew up in London so I'm quite used to the cold weather. I just love sitting in a coffee shop, looking out the glass window and watching the foot traffic outside. I can do this for hours, just sipping my coffee and reading a book.

The barista at my favorite coffee shop doesn't mind my loitering, fortunately, and over the two years of my back and forth here in New York, I've somehow developed a keenship with him. His name's Caleb and he's the barista and owner of this quaint coffee shop just across the hotel I always stay at whenever I'm in the city. I don't even have to say my order to him anymore; he knows exactly how I want my coffee and all I have to do is sit at my favorite spot by the window and wait for him to serve it.

"Hero, welcome back to New York, dude," Caleb beams the moment I step into the shop.

"Hey, man. Good to be back," I respond.

"Your usual?"

"You know it," I smile before heading to my spot.

And then I stop.

There's a woman sitting on my spot. She has her face cast down to whatever book she's reading, her golden locks falling around and making it difficult for me to make out her face. She's too invested in the book that she's oblivious to my standing right in front of her.
Should I just take another seat? But that's the only table in this small coffee shop that's right by the window. I know the logical thing to do is to let this go and just settle in another table but I don't know what came over when I say, "Um, excuse me miss but you're in my spot."

Her head snaps up and I am met with the most gorgeous blue-grey eyes and angelic face. Wow, she's stunning. "I'm sorry, what?" she blinks up at me, her eyes reflecting confusion. She has an accent that catches me a bit off guard; I really thought she's a local.

"You're in my spot," I smile. I am completely aware that I sound stupid and petty for claiming a spot in a coffee shop where every customer is entitled to sit wherever the fuck they want but I don't care. That's my spot. Fuck, I sound exactly like Sheldon Cooper.

"Your spot?" she practically scoffs then looks around the area around her. On the table, under it, she even lifts herself off the seat and goes to look for something before settling back on it. Her brows furrow and she tells me with a shrug, "I don't see a name anywhere."

Oh, she's trying to be funny.

"Well... you could go ask Caleb, the barista. He knows this is my spot." Why can't I fucking let this go?

Her head turns to the counter, her neck craning before turning her attention back to me. "He's kind of busy." Then she goes back to reading her book as I remain standing there. After a few seconds, she huffs in annoyance and tilts her head up to look at me. "If you really want to sit here, I'll share this table with you but I'm not giving you my seat."

"I can do that," I finally relent. I know I just acted like a fucking asshole but there's just something about this woman.

I sit on the chair right across from her and silently watch the foot traffic outside as she returns to reading her book. Moments later, Caleb appears to serve my steaming cup of coffee. He looks back and forth between the woman and I before turning on his heels and scratching the back of his head. Taking my first sip, I eye her over the rim of my cup. She tucks one side of her fallen hair to the back of her left ear, revealing half of her casted down face to me. For the first time since I started coming here in this shop, my eyes are not trained to the chaos outside but at this stranger right in front of me. Is she aware how transparent her emotions are on her face? At some point in her book, she'd scrunch her nose in disgust, then she'd smile at some point, and then frown every now and then. But the most intriguing part is when she bites her lower lip.