She doesn’t notice him at first.

Every Tuesday and Thursday morning, she walks into the café just off campus in the same rhythm: oversized hoodie, headphones in, laptop under one arm, always five minutes early for her 9:30 lit class. She orders the same oat milk chai, always tips in cash, always finds the booth by the window if it’s free.

And every Tuesday and Thursday, he’s there too.

Sometimes he’s pretending to study econ, sometimes pretending to read the New Yorker on his tablet. But mostly? He’s watching her — quietly, like a secret prayer. She doesn’t know it, but she’s been part of his mornings for over a month now. It started accidentally. Now it’s ritual.

He’s the kind of popular people like but don’t really know — former high school wrestler turned data science major, tall with a thick frame, sharp jaw, and wire-frame glasses. He’s got a whole squad, but only a couple real friends. The type who’s soft-spoken unless he’s talking about something he loves.

And he loves her. In silence, from across the room.

He’s memorized how she curls her legs under her in the booth. How she frowns at her screen when writing. How she always wipes the rim of her cup before she takes the first sip. He doesn’t even know her name — just that she smells like vanilla and never stays longer than 45 minutes.

One rainy morning, her regular seat is taken. She stands there, scanning, brow furrowed — and their eyes meet for the first time.

He panics. Then gestures to the empty seat across from him.

“You can sit here, if you want. I’m not weird. I swear.” She hesitates, but the rain’s getting heavier. She sits. Thanks him. Pulls out her laptop. Orders the chai.

And that’s how it starts — a gentle unraveling. Tuesday and Thursday mornings become shared silences, hesitant smiles, little exchanges.

He learns she’s pre-law. That she loves James Baldwin and hates parking on campus. She learns he’s obsessed with data sets, but dreams about writing graphic novels on the side.

One morning, she brings him a chai. Another, he saves her seat before she arrives.

Eventually, he tells her:

“I don’t really like coffee. I just come here to see you.”