Coffee Date
1043 Words
Amelia's phone buzzed just as she stepped through the front door.
Amelia kicked her shoes off and pulled the phone from her pocket.
Ryan:
Hey… are we still on for coffee tomorrow?
She stared at the message for a moment.
A small warmth spread through her chest.
Amelia:
Yeah. Sunday at 10, right?
A typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Ryan:
Yep. Just checking you didn’t change your mind.
Amelia smiled faintly.
Not yet, she typed, before setting the phone down on the table.
The quiet house wrapped around her again.
She returned to her painting, losing herself in the slow rhythm of brush against canvas. The afternoon faded into evening without her noticing.
By the time she finally stepped back, the sky outside had darkened.
Her stomach growled.
Amelia opened the cupboard and stared inside for a moment before pulling out a box of cereal. She poured herself a bowl and sat at the kitchen counter, eating quietly.
It wasn’t much of a dinner.
But tonight, no one was there to notice.
And somehow, that felt both comforting—
and painfully lonely.
Morning arrived too quickly.
Amelia woke with a strange, tight feeling already sitting in her chest. For a few seconds she lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember why.
Then it hit her.
Coffee with Ryan.
10 a.m.
Her stomach twisted.
She rolled onto her side and reached for her phone on the bedside table. 8:12 a.m.
Plenty of time.
And yet the thought didn’t calm her. If anything, the extra time just gave her brain more space to think.
What if it was awkward?
What if they ran out of things to say?
What if he realised spending time with her wasn’t actually that fun?
The thoughts began stacking on top of each other, one after the other, until her chest felt tight.
Maybe she should cancel.
The idea slipped in quietly but stuck immediately.
She could say she wasn’t feeling well. Or that something came up at home. It wouldn’t even be a lie, not really — the knot of anxiety in her stomach certainly counted as not feeling well.
Amelia sat up, phone already in her hand.
Her thumbs hovered over the screen.
Before she could type anything, a notification popped up.
Ryan:
Important question.
Amelia blinked.
Another message appeared.
Ryan:
If we get coffee today and a pigeon steals my muffin, are you legally required to defend me?
She stared at the message.
A laugh slipped out before she could stop it.
The tightness in her chest loosened just slightly.
Amelia:
Depends. Are you fighting the pigeon or surrendering immediately?
The typing bubble appeared.
Ryan:
I’d like to say I’d fight it but realistically… I’m probably losing that battle.
Amelia shook her head, smiling.
The anxious voice in her head quieted a little.
Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.
Maybe she could just… go.
By the time she left the house, she had changed outfits three times before eventually settling on the one thing that felt the most like herself.
Her favourite oversized hoodie.
A pair of paint-covered jeans she hadn’t bothered to clean after yesterday.
And her fake Dr. Martens that had started peeling slightly around the sides.
Not exactly coffee-date material.
But this wasn’t a date.
Just friends.
Amelia repeated that to herself as she stepped out the front door.
Just coffee.
Just friends.
The café was only around the corner, a short ten-minute walk, but each step seemed to make her heart beat faster.
Her hands shoved deeper into the sleeves of her hoodie.
You can still turn around.
The thought came again as she reached the end of the street.
He wouldn’t even be mad. People cancel plans all the time.
She slowed for a moment, staring down at the pavement.
Just breathe.
In through the nose.
Out through the mouth.
Amelia tried it as she walked.
Slow breaths.
One step at a time.
Eventually the small café came into view.
Outdoor tables sat along the sidewalk, a few people already sipping coffee in the morning sun.
And there—
Ryan.
He was sitting at one of the outside tables, leaning back in his chair, his foot tapping lightly against the ground. When he spotted her approaching, his face lit up.
Amelia’s steps slowed slightly.
On the table in front of him sat two drinks.
One of them was already in a familiar cup.
Her favourite.
Ryan stood as she reached the table.
“I wasn’t sure if preferred hot or iced coffee ,” he said, sliding the cup toward her, “but I gambled on iced.”
Amelia stared at it for a second before looking back at him.
“You guessed right”
Ryan shrugged casually. “It's my favourite too.”
A small warmth spread through her chest.
“Thanks,” she said softly, sitting down across from him.
For a while, things were… easy.
They talked about school, about the disastrous field trip bus ride, about a teacher Ryan was convinced secretly hated him. Amelia found herself laughing more than she expected, the nervous tension slowly fading from her shoulders.
It almost felt normal.
Until something moved across the street.
Amelia’s smile faltered.
Standing across the street, partially shadowed by the trees—
Lola.
Watching.
Her stomach dropped.
Ryan was still talking, something about a science assignment, but Amelia wasn’t listening anymore. Her eyes stayed fixed across the street.
Lola didn’t wave.
She just stood there.
Looking directly at her.
“Amelia?”
Ryan’s voice cut through the moment.
She blinked and turned back toward him.
“You okay?” he asked, frowning slightly.
Amelia swallowed and glanced back across the street.
Lola was gone.
Her chest tightened.
Ryan was still watching her, waiting.
Amelia forced a small smile and lifted her shoulders in a shrug.
“Yeah,” she said quickly. “I just thought I saw someone from school.”
Ryan nodded slowly, though his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he relaxed back into his chair.
A chill spread through Amelia’s body, cold and sharp, like the iced coffee between her fingers. No matter how hard she tried to focus on Ryan, her gaze kept sliding back across the street.
- Writer
