Short Story | At the Counter Seat, Love Begins to Stir

A scorching heat, unbefitting of the fresh greenery, beats down on the ground.
I had intended to go to the library to return some books, but I decided to buy a coffee at the library's counter seats first.

The cafe on this holiday is bustling with so many people it feels like I might be swallowed by the crowd.
(This is one of those times when mobile ordering is faster.)
My mind insists.
Desperate to cool down as soon as possible, my fingers naturally open the cafe's mobile order screen.
(Iced coffee, short... no, make it a grande.)

Grateful for the convenience of modern technology that lets me skip the ordering line, I head to the pickup counter.
At the same time, I finish reserving a counter seat at the library. My holiday is now perfect.
I cast a glance to the side and see a painting of a girl being blown by the wind in a meadow.
I wonder how many people notice that it brings the scent of fresh greenery into the cafe.

"Thank you for waiting."

The coffee, poured into a takeaway cup, makes a crisp sound as it is handed to me.

I give a slight bow, saying "Thank you," and leave the shop.
The moment I opened the door, a stifling, suffocating heat rose up.

I go to the library, present my reservation ticket, and take a seat.
"Drinks with lids are allowed"—this is a unique feature of this library.
There is also an attached cafe, and spending my holidays here has become my weekend routine.

(What should I read today?)

When I glance at the person sitting next to me, I see a familiar face.
I recognized the way they were working seriously on a laptop and running a pen across a notebook.

(Nagamine-kun—we were in the library committee together.)

Haruma Nagamine, a classmate from the same high school and a fellow library committee member. Silver-rimmed glasses and smooth, short black hair. He carried an air of being unapproachable.
I had watched him as a fellow committee member. Contrary to his seemingly unapproachable appearance, he couldn't stop talking once the subject turned to books.
The time I spent talking to him was fun, happy—it was bliss.
I realized I was attracted to him just before graduation. We were going to different universities, and it ended without me saying anything.

"Could it be—Kakinuma... Yuika-san?"

A voice suddenly came from the side, and I nodded while letting out a soundless gasp.
Nagamine-kun smiles, narrowing his eyes behind the same silver-rimmed glasses he wore in high school.

"Are you at work, Nagamine-kun?"
"No—I'm a writer. I'm still just starting out, though."

The depths of his eyes are shining, just like when he used to talk about books in the past.
A writer, huh? While I thought it suited him, I also felt a little lonely. As if he might drift far away from me again.
He runs his pen smoothly across a sticky note.

"Here, my contact info. Feel free to reach out anytime."

I nod and grip the note he handed me as if to wrap it in my hand.

"I had something I wanted to talk to you about if I ever met you again, Nagamine-kun."

His eyes go wide, and his cheeks flush slightly.
He drops his gaze for a moment before turning back to face me.

"—Then, would you like to go get some lunch? The Italian place nearby has great lunch specials."

I could only nod with a voice as faint as a mosquito's hum.

As if to fill the years since graduation, my heartbeat gradually quickens.
Time, which had been at a standstill since that day, begins to move again. As if urged on by the sound of the second hand, my heartbeat raced.

The penne with meat sauce I ate with him tasted, perhaps, a little sweet.

It's been a while since I last participated...!