I saw Ethan before he saw me, which gave me exactly four seconds to decide whether to duck into the nearest doorway or stand my ground in the middle of a coffee shop two blocks from my old thesis studio, and some stubborn, exhausted part of me chose to stay.
He clocked me a moment later, halfway through ordering, and I watched the whole sequence of his face — surprise, then something guarded, then a visible decision to not simply walk back out the door he'd just come through. He finished his order instead, and when his coffee came, he crossed to where I was sitting instead of taking the empty seat by the window.
"I wasn't following you," he said, before I could say anything at all. "In case that's the first thing you're wondering. I used to come here before finals, back when I was still
