Chapter 18: Coffee
The bite of winter had deepened, the cold sharp enough to sting any soul brave enough to step outside. Fierce winds tore through the streets, forcing bundled pedestrians to hurry home with their heads down and coats pulled tight.
Business at the Fast Feast Diner was painfully slow today. Only a handful of customers had come in, leaving the prepared meals sitting warm under their lids, faint wisps of steam gathering on the surfaces.
Julian Hayes sat down heavily on his stool, phone in hand as he recited vocabulary words in sync with the app's mechanical voice. Margaret Monroe sat close beside him.
The stools offered no back support, and pressing against the cold, unyielding wall made for a miserable position. He shifted his weight several times, trying to find any relief, but nothing helped.
Margaret noticed his fidgeting. She blinked slowly, considering for a few seconds before speaking. "Want to try sitting back-to-back?"
"Back-to-back?" Julian repeated, not quite following.
"It looks like you're really uncomfortable. I am too. We could lean against each other for support."
"…Okay."
They adjusted their stools slightly, turning them so they could press their backs together.
Julian lacked any sort of broad, powerful build. His back was slim and narrow compared to most boys his age, only marginally wider than Margaret's.
After a minute, a yawn escaped him. Drowsiness rolled in fast. He killed the screen, dropped his head, and let his eyes close.
Margaret caught the sound. "Another bad night?"
"It was alright. Just stayed up too late and didn't get enough sleep."
"How late are we talking?"
"Not that late, but not early either… I'm still pretty tired." His voice faded, heavy with exhaustion.
"Then nap for a bit. The boss probably won't swing by to check, and I'll wake you if he does."
"Yeah… thanks, Margaret…"
She stayed silent after that. The soft rhythm of his breathing brushed her ear. Julian, not fully asleep, felt the subtle shift in how she leaned into him—firmer, almost protective. The quiet tension in her posture radiated against his back like she was clinging to the contact, as if she wanted this closeness to stretch on forever and leave no room for anyone else.
Then she spotted the unwelcome figure approaching from down the block. Julian felt Margaret's spine stiffen against his for just a second before she relaxed again. When he cracked his eyes open, she had smoothed her expression into one of gentle politeness, her smile soft and welcoming.
Hannah Reeves entered with an easy, authentic smile lighting up her face. She always looked so effortlessly carefree. The way Margaret's shoulders stayed just a fraction too rigid told Julian she didn't share the enthusiasm—especially when Hannah drew anywhere near him.
Hannah paused for a beat upon seeing them seated that way, then offered Margaret a warm smile and held out a cup of coffee along with a sausage biscuit.
The gesture caught Margaret off guard. Their acquaintance wasn't deep enough for this kind of casual kindness. Hannah's smile held no trace of calculation, just genuine warmth.
"Thanks, but I'm not hungry," Margaret said, raising a hand to decline politely.
"Take it anyway. It'll warm your hands, if nothing else. And the biscuit—if you don't want it, this dummy can have it."
Hannah pressed both items into Margaret's arms anyway. Their fingers brushed briefly. The other girl's hand felt so soft… and cold.
Unable to brush off the insistent offer, Margaret accepted. The coffee's heat quickly seeped through the cup, chasing the chill from her palms. It was surprisingly comforting. Julian noticed the careful way she gripped it, like she was already calculating how to repay the unexpected kindness later—she never liked feeling indebted.
The girls kept their voices low, but Julian hadn't truly fallen asleep. He cracked his eyes open to see Hannah standing there, pushing a plastic cup and small bag into his hands as well.
He lifted the clear bag, eyeing the soft, perfectly shaped sausage biscuit inside. "Why only one?"
Hannah raised an eyebrow, playful. "Gave the other one to Margaret. You didn't eat breakfast?"
Margaret heard and straightened up, turning to offer hers to him. "I already ate. You can have this one."
"No, no, I ate too. You should try it, Margaret. The class president's are pretty tasty."
As he spoke, Julian took a bite of his own. The savory meat filling had a rich flavor—clearly better than Hannah's last attempt.
Margaret hesitated a second, then bit into hers. It was genuinely good, far more flavorful than the quick breakfast she'd thrown together earlier, though her face betrayed nothing.
Hannah looked around the small diner space. Everything was simple and functional, nothing extra—just like the two of them.
"You two planning to stay planted here all day?"
Julian swallowed his bite. "Looks like it. You sticking around to keep us company?"
Hannah glanced at their shared seating and the lack of any third chair in the cramped area. "Only two stools? If I wanted to keep you company, there's nowhere for me to sit."
You. Singular. Julian completely missed the subtle wording.
"I can give you my seat. Someone needs to man the counter anyway."
Margaret stiffened. When she saw Julian take a sip of coffee and begin to stand, the impulse to stop him and volunteer to stand instead surged up.
She killed the idea immediately. That would mean Julian and Hannah sitting together.
She remained quiet as Julian rose.
"Never mind, stay seated. I'll watch for any customers."
Hannah gently pressed him back down onto the stool, then moved over to lean against the counter wall. She gazed out at the quiet street, where foot traffic was nearly nonexistent. Business was clearly suffering today.
"Class president, you don't have to do this…" Julian started to protest, but knowing Hannah's stubborn streak, he let the words die.
A soft chime came from her pocket. Hannah pulled out her phone, checked the messages, then looked up at him with a teasing smirk after a few seconds. "Scores for all the subjects are out. Want to see your French results, Julian?"
He turned toward her. She was smiling mischievously, gripping her phone tightly in its familiar pink case, almond-shaped eyes crinkled with amusement.
"Why didn't I get a notification?" Julian switched apps and checked the class group—nothing new.
"Because Ms. Rebecca Lang sent the full list directly to me. Curious how you did? I already looked."
"Can you tell me?"
"Beg me nicely and I might."
"You actually did pretty well. Solid improvement from last time," Margaret interjected suddenly, her gaze lifting from her phone to study Julian's face.
Ms. Rebecca Lang had forwarded the comprehensive score sheet to every class representative. Margaret had seen Julian's results there too.
"Really? What score?" Julian asked, turning to Margaret.
She glanced briefly at Hannah, a questioning look passing between them.
"Eighty-nine. You pulled it off pretty decently this time, dummy," Hannah revealed, still scrolling through her phone. "What about you, Margaret?"
"Around ninety-seven. Pretty much the same as before."
Margaret gave a small smile but didn't volunteer the exact figure. Seeing her name near the top of the list didn't bring her any real pleasure.