Before Then

1: We meet

It was October 22nd when I first saw you. You were in the corner on an old couch I was sure Kate found in some back ally way. The book you were sucked into has long been forgotten probably by both of us, you had read so many after that. I knew other girls were looking at you because in coffee shops we don't get many guys who actually come to read. I had to admit you were cute but I wasn't heart stricken like you and I chose to sit in my normal seat. I always sat at the far table by the window, I didn't mind because it was always fogged over even in summer so people on the outside couldn't see in.

It was strange that I noticed you at all, you didn't stick out. In fact I was sure someone was going to come in and sit on you mistaking you for a chair. Light brown hair and brown eyes with a black sweater and dark green shirt under that. Every two minutes or so, you would shift your eyes from your cup to the candle in front of you before looking back at your page and reading again. I only understood now, that you did that to think about something before starting that page over again.

Even while doing that, you read so fast. I had never read in the store. The odd occasion people would ask me what book I'm reading, and then they would try to strike up a conversation I wouldn't want but I could never just turn them away like most others do, so I write instead on my laptop. I never enjoyed writing but something about the way the keys sound when I hit them at a fast rate, or maybe the warmth on my lap from the fan is what I enjoyed about it.

I remember coming the next day to see you in a different spot, on the light brown beanbag looking very uncomfortable reading a different book. You were too tall for it, but it was a Saturday, and the store is always packed and on those days. Even I couldn't get my regular spot. I ended up sitting by the counter, and not getting anything done with all the sounds of the kitchen. People were talking louder that day, but even I could still hear your music. I knew what song it was, Landfill by Daughter, an indie band I found when I was fourteen by chance from a YouTube video.

I never asked you how you came to love the band as much as I did, you didn't answer many of my questions.

On the 3rd day, a Sunday, the only spot available was at my table with you right across from where I sit. You had a new book, but everything about you was the same. Black sweater, brown hair, brown eyes, green shirt, the only thing that changed was the coffee mug. I walked over to you but you had your music in again, and you didn't even see or hear me until I lightly taped your shoulder. You jumped and looked up at me, shocked, you quickly pulled out one earbud and cleared your throat. I asked if I could have a seat, you looked around and nodded, probably realizing I had nowhere else to go.

I gave my best smile trying not to seem nervous and sat down. You put your music back in, and I could tell I was yet again a blur in the background to you. Your book was more interesting to you than anything in the real world. You always had that attitude around me; I wondered why you always talked to me.

After a while of not writing, once again, I gave up and closed my laptop to see you staring at me. I jumped and looked down at the lid of my laptop, then back at you. After a few moments, I realized I was like your candle. On busy days they were never on the tables, you were spacing out, and I was freaking out even though you didn't see me. After a little while, you finally blinked and noticed what you were doing. At first you just went back to reading, but soon you pulled out both your ear buds and looked at me a little annoyed. You said, "I wasn't looking at you. I was just thinking about, stuff." I smiled and nodded, then decided to open my laptop again. This time, I at least got some ideas down but it died before I could save, and I slammed the lid shut a little mad. I know I could just open word and check the auto saves, but it still annoyed me.

I always saved, but I was off my game when you were around. I decided to leave early but you probably didn't notice even after I was gone. The next day I went again. I was happy to see that it was emptier after 2 days of being packed, but I was shocked to see you at my table anyways. I felt weirdly violated, like you went through a diary I had. You could have sat anywhere else but at my table was where you chose.

Did you not know I always sat there? Did you just not care? I stormed over and glared at you as you looked up from your book, with no headphones, you probably herd me storming over to you. "Why are you sitting here?" I asked, noticing how my voice shook a little. I was never good at standing up to people. While I did this I could already feel people's eyes on me and my face turning red.

"Because this is a store, not a school. Seats aren't assigned here." I remember the smug look on your face when you said that, knowing fully well how much I knew I was an idiot.

"But, I sit here every day, this is my spot." You shrugged, and went back to reading, I sighed, sitting down across from you. I know it's just a table but something about you pissed me off now. The way you turned your page, or stared at me if I hit back space a lot on my keyboard. I could feel you judging me for miss spelling something or not liking what I had just written. I wanted to move after just 10 minutes, but I knew if I did that this spot would never be mine again.

After a while, you put down your book but I tried not to pay you any mind. I was truly shocked when you asked what I was writing about all the time. "Just, stuff." I remember answering, and you letting out a small laugh.

"What kind of stuff then?" I could feel my anger rising again and I wanted to slam my hands on the table and tell you to piss off, but I just shrugged and looked around at the few girls shooting me with glares.

"Just stuff, nothing in particular." You nodded and stared at me some more, and I sighed. "Are you thinking about 'stuff' again or are you trying to make me uncomfortable?" I snapped, you smirked.

"Are you always so quick to anger?" I sighed again and sat back, closing my laptop and watching you take a long sip from your cup. "I'm Evan." You smiled and I nodded. You looked at me waiting for me to tell you my name, but I wanted you to ask. You took your time pissing me off so I wanted to return the favor. "And you are?" You finally asked after a good two minutes, and I laughed in the back of my head.

"Jane." I gave a quick answer and looked at the clock on the wall. It was only seven but it felt like I had been there much longer. I soon realized I should have enjoyed being with you while we had time.