463. Chapter 463

She can’t quite figure out if the girl’s hair is red or brown or something in between.

She can’t quite figure it out, but she knows she gets jealous of the girl’s own fingers when she rakes it through her hair distractedly as she’s studying.

And she’s always studying.

It’s like the coffee is incidental, like the people coming and going around her are incidental.

She’s always studying.

Always studying, her lips moving slightly as she pieces through a particularly difficult equations.

Or, they look like difficult equations, anyway – looks like astrophysics, to be precise – whenever Maggie passes by to bring lattes and mochas and cappuccinos to customers nearby the studying girl with the tantalizing hair color.

The tantalizing face. The tantalizing body. The tantalizing way of moving, of muttering to herself. Of taking her glasses off – god, those glasses – to rub her eyes every now and again. The tantalizing way of focusing, focusing, so diligently.

It’s been a week, now, that she’s been coming into the coffee shop Maggie pays the bills in between forensics lab and political science class.

It’s been a week, and Maggie doesn’t even know if she’s into girls, but dammit, she’ll never forgive herself if she doesn’t try.

Because there’s something about this girl. A pull. An irresistible pull.

And Maggie can’t help but wonder if it’ll work in the other direction.

She waits until Alex closes her textbook – she was right, it is astrophysics – not wanting to disturb her brain flow.

“Excuse me,” she says, voice so low, so constricted, that the girl doesn’t hear her. She curses internally, clears her throat softly, and repeats herself, louder this time.

The girl looks up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you need that seat? Here, I can move my stuff, I – “

“No, no, you’re fine, I’m sorry, I just – hi. I’m Maggie.”

The girl blinks and takes her glasses off, and god, are her eyes gorgeous.

“Alex,” she says, confident but unsure why this girl – this really, really, really pretty girl – is talking to her.

Maggie turns the name over and over in her head, and decides that she needs to taste it on her own lips.

“Alex,” she repeats, and she revels in the feeling. “Well um, I… I don’t mean to be a creep, but I work here, and you’ve been coming in here a lot this past month, and I… I am… rambling. Sorry – “

“No, no, you’re fine. Usually I’m the one rambling around really pretty girls. Not that I’m calling myself pretty, I mean, I was… I didn’t mean…”

“Were you saying I’m pretty?” Maggie asks, her voice nearly cracking.

“I… it… I mean of course I was, have you ever looked into a mirror, Maggie?” Alex asks, and Maggie decides she never wants to hear her name come from anyone else’s lips again, because god, does it sound perfect when Alex says it.

Alex, Alex, Alex.

She blushes deeply when Alex’s words sink into her skin.

“I… I just wanted to know… well, if you ever wanted to get coffee when you’re not studying astrophysics – I’m in forensics, myself, so see, maybe we’ll have stuff to talk about, science and all – I could take you… out. Take you out. To coffee. Or not. Or whatever you wanted. I – “

“I would love to, Maggie. Go out with you.”

Maggie remembers how to breathe. “I swear I’m usually not this rambly.”

Alex laughs, and it’s the most gorgeous sound Maggie’s ever heard. “I swear I am usually much more rambly than I am now. My little sister will be proud. I’ve managed not to make too big a loser out of myself.”

“You couldn’t be a loser if you tried.”

“Get to know me first before making that judgment, Maggie,” Alex chuckles, and Maggie blushes again.

“I’m trying to!”

Alex bites the inside of her cheek and puts her glasses back on, staring up at Maggie for a long, flirtatious moment that has Maggie forgetting every word she’s ever known and every thought she’s ever had.

“Well,” Alex starts, breaking eye contact but not breaking the spell. “I have to go pick up my sister from high school, but uh… when you want to see me again… outside of all this… you let me know, alright?”

She presses a napkin with a phone number and her name, hastily but carefully written, into Maggie’s hand.

“I will, Alex. I will,” Maggie promises as Alex gathers her things and blushes as she stands.

“Good,” she almost whispers. “See you soon, I hope.”

“You will. You will. Alex.”

Maggie whispers her name like a prayer, and clings to the napkin like a saving grace.

She floats the entire rest of the day, and, across town, so does Alex.