coffee shop

13

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Jo

The man in the row behind me groans and shoves his shoulder against my seat as he forces his way out of his row to go to the bathroom. It's the third time since we took off, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered threatening the flight attendant who keeps giving him water when he asks for it.

To my right, Louis has his earbuds in and his eyes closed. Beth's seat is four rows up and on the opposite side of the plane, and Louis' flatmate and his girlfriend are a row ahead of her. I'm lucky Louis' and my seats ended up being next to each other. If I were sitting next to a stranger, I'm not sure I could sleep, and I'm desperate for some shut-eye.

Our flight was early this morning, courtesy of Louis' extremely last-minute, fifteen-pound find. We had to be at the airport by four, which meant we were all up, packed, and in a taxi to the airport by 3 AM. Of all of us, Louis seemed the least bothered. In fact, he seemed buzzing to get out of Edinburgh, even if it was just for a week. When he'd suggested the idea to me and Beth in the library, I had thought he was joking—but judging by the fact that I'm sitting next to him in an airplane seat and crossing over Europe, I was wrong.

"Morning," he says as we sit down. He slides two cups of coffee across the table. "You look like you need these."

"You are my favorite person," says Beth. She slumps into her chair and holds the cup in both hands to warm her fingers.

I lift the cup to my nose and inhale the sweet and spicy scent of chai and espresso. Lou tends to pick our drinks based on the weather, and I've almost got him figured out. A few more weeks, and I'll be able to predict exactly what he'll bring based on the number of clouds in the sky.

I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that we've gone to the same university this entire time and have never run into each other, but I'm so glad that we finally met. We've spent the last few weeks together exploring the city, getting to know each other, making coffee, reading books, talking music, and a number of other things. Still, after weeks of prodding and relentless asking, he's still told me next to nothing about his personal life. I have a strange feeling that he somehow knows me better than I know him.

"Thank you," I say before taking a sip of my tea. He offers a half-smile as warm vanilla and cinnamon flood my tastebuds.

It's not long before our table falls silent, and we all get to work on our assignments. Every so often, I glance up at Lou. I don't know if it's because I feel the need to check on him and make sure he's focusing, or if I need to know he's still sitting there after a while, but he begins to catch on. He begins making funny faces at me, so I stop looking at him out of respect to the other people in the library.

Under the table, something bumps my foot. I look up. Lou is watching me from over the top of his laptop.

He quirks an eyebrow, and I crack a smile, then get back to work.

He kicks me again.

"What?" I ask quietly, finishing typing a paragraph before looking at him.

His laptop turns around. He has six tabs open, four of which are from some travel website. The names of different places in Europe flash across the top of his browser. On the tab he has open, though, is a list of flights on different days and times. Something must be wrong with the website, though, because along the side of the screen are prices in the range of ten pounds.

"What's that?"

"Flights," he whispers back. "To Italy."

"Oh," I say, nodding my head. Then I turn my focus back to my screen. "Cool."