Maya was already packing up before the lecture finished.
She snapped her laptop shut while the lecturer was still talking.
"Just a reminder," the lecturer called out, voice lifting, "the readings on long-term planning are—"
Maya slipped into the aisle before the sentence landed.
The hallway air hit cooler for half a second.
Then the heat.
Outside, the late July sun came down hard on the concrete plaza. The brightness off the pavement made her squint. A dusty gust caught the loose cotton of her shirt and flicked grit against her ankles.
She dragged her sunglasses down from the top of her head.
Calgary in summer. Perfect.
She checked her watch.
Shit. Ninety minutes to the next one.
Too short to go home. Too long to just sit. If she went back to the café again, they were going to start asking when she was on shift.
The library, then.
She headed toward Taylor, already regretting it.
She crossed to the glass-railed walkway and passed a couple of classmates heading the other way. They nodded like always. Friendly... brief. No one ever stuck. Maya liked nudging conversations off-centre just to see who could keep their footing. Most couldn't, or wouldn't try twice.
Maya scanned for a seat. Most of the tables were taken. She almost gave up.
Then, by the window, Maya saw her.
Seated alone at a round table, curled toward her laptop. Chestnut hair loose over one shoulder, slightly uneven like it had been pushed back more than once and left there. Sweater sleeves shoved up absent-mindedly as she typed, thin gold chain catching softly at her throat. Her chair was pulled in close, making herself smaller without seeming to realise it.
Pretty. Distracted. Entirely elsewhere.
The rest of the library kept moving.
Maya didn't.
She slipped between the workstations and dropped her laptop and notebook onto the table beside the girl's elbow, nudging a stack of papers.
The sound cracked the quiet.
—
Movement at the edge of her vision. Then impact — pain shooting up from her knee where it caught the underside of the table.
Fuck.
Chaos.
Papers went everywhere, sliding like the floor had given out. Sheets skidded under the table.
"Shit. Sorry."
She looked up. Startled, then steady. Not backing away.
Her hand hovered, forgotten mid-reach.
"Don't worry," Maya said. She meant it breezy. Failed. "You looked about five minutes from face-planting into the keyboard."
"I didn't even see you."
It came out a fraction too honest.
Laura's gaze lifted before she could stop it. Long dark hair. Black T-shirt. Hazel eyes fixed on her with unnerving steadiness.
Holy shit.
"That much I figured," Maya said. "You didn't even flinch when I claimed half your table."
"It's—"
Heat crept up her neck before she could stop it.
"It's warm in here," she said quickly. "I, um... I'm Laura."
"Maya."
They crouched together to gather the papers. Their knees bumped lightly beneath the table.
Laura reached for her notes just as Maya leaned closer, and she caught the warm trace of caramel perfume.
Oh.
Slim silver rings flashed as Maya gathered the scattered pages, quick and precise. A fine chain shifted at her collarbone when she moved, catching briefly in the light before disappearing again.
Laura realised she'd stopped paying attention to what she was picking up.
They straightened.
The table looked almost normal again. The library too. Laptops. Quiet hum. Students pretending not to exist.
Laura picked up her pen, twirling it absently between her fingers. She nodded toward the notes beside Maya. "Planning the downfall of car culture?"
Maya glanced at her properly for the first time, something warmer flickering briefly across her expression.
"The gradual collapse," she said, sliding her binder closer, claiming half the table like it had always been hers. Her eyes stayed on Laura.
Laura looked down, pretending to read.
When their shoulders touched, Maya didn't move. Laura did.
Maya caught the shift and slid her binder back a fraction. "If you want the table back, I can move."
Laura shook her head too quickly. "No, it's fine."
"I'm grabbing a coffee. You look like you could use it."
"I—"
"Might help keep you upright." A brief lift of her hand, then she was gone.
Laura could've packed up and walked out. It would have taken thirty seconds, tops. But her eyes stayed fixed on the same sentence, taking in none of it. She didn't even know what Maya had said. Only that she'd looked at her like she wasn't background noise.
Maya returned. "Here. You don't strike me as the espresso kind of girl," she said, settling in. "Milk and sugar. Safe bet."
She nudged the cup forward, slow and deliberate.
Laura reached for it and took a sip. "Thanks. I'm not this either. But... close enough."
Maya raised an eyebrow. "Close how?"
"Three sugars."
Maya tapped the rim of her cup with a fingernail, sharp against the quiet. "Three? You don't mess around."
Laura tried not to watch the way her fingers tapped the table. Or count her rings.
"It's a library thing. If I'm going to suffer, I want it to taste like something."
Maya leaned back, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Who needs a pancreas anyway?"
Focus, Laura. Blade cores, not boobs.
"What?"
Maya smirked into her cup. "Exactly."
Laura didn't answer right away. She looked up and scanned the room, the usual scattered students, the soft hum of laptops, someone asleep with their hood up. Everything going through the motions.
"You looking for someone?" Maya asked.
"No," Laura said, too fast.
"You looked like you were trying to figure out if this was allowed."
Laura exhaled, trying to reset. "It's just... usually quieter in here."
"Sorry, I don't really do whispering."
At their table, the silence held. Laura leaned forward, fingertips pressed lightly to her temples, eyes unfocused on the screen.
Say something. Anything.
Maya let the silence sit, then glanced down. Her finger traced the edge of the table, then the neat row of highlighters lined up beside Laura's notebook. Yellow. Green. Orange. Blue. Her nail clicked softly as it passed over them.
"What's with all these?" she asked. "Why not just yellow?"
Laura followed her gaze. "I don't know," she said. "I like having options."
"Like the Girl Guides," Maya said. "Be prepared." She took a sip of her coffee. "So, what were you studying that almost knocked you out?"
"Archaeology, I've got an assignment on Aurignacian blade cores."
Maya frowned like she was being pranked. "On what now?"
"Aurignacian blade cores."
Maya narrowed her eyes. "Okay..."
"They're stone tools, Upper Palaeolithic. Ice Age. Same period as the cave paintings—thirty, forty thousand years ago."
"Okay," Maya said. "I'm in urban studies. We fake our way through maths." She leaned in a little, lowering her voice. "Say it again."
Laura rolled her eyes. "Aurignacian blade cores."
"It sounds made up. Like IKEA furniture. Some assembly required."
Laura gave a short laugh despite herself.
Maya sipped her coffee, unfazed. "You'd have hated Transportation Rituals in Ancient Steppe Societies."
"That's not a real thing."
"It is. Guest lecture last year. One guy brought a drum. Said wheeled carts were auditory metaphors for cultural movement."
"That's not how wheels work." Her brain queued up a dozen objections, none of which landed. She stared, hoping the statement might make sense with time.
Maya grinned. "Too niche for you?"
Is she fucking with me?
Laura laughed. "I don't even know your last name."
"Novak."
Laura hesitated. "You didn't... catch mine, did you?"
Maya smiled, slightly. "You tell me."
Laura frowned. "What?"
"Chambers." Maya nodded toward Laura's notes. The look she gave her felt like an opening, not a trick. "It's on your paper."
Laura stared at her. "You read it."
"I'm not psychic, which is disappointing," she said with a glint in her eye. "And you write tiny."
Laura looked at her properly now. She realised she'd been waiting for Maya to move on. She hadn't. Maya stayed exactly where she was. Already in it. Like this was simply how things worked.
"So... urban planning?"
"Guilty." Maya nudged her binder into a more upright sprawl. "Transit systems. Road networks. Making cities less of a disaster."
Laura raised a brow. "And that requires world domination?"
"Eventually, yeah. But I'm starting with Calgary."
"Sounds ambitious."
"Better than cave paintings and rocks?"
Laura rolled her eyes. "You think it's just cave paintings and rocks?"
"Prove me wrong."
Laura tapped the edge of her laptop, warming now. "My current chapter is on symbolic organization in Aurignacian—"
Maya blinked slowly. "There's that word again."
Laura gave her a dry look. "—blade core reduction strategies. So... yes. Rocks. But meaningful rocks."
"Sexy."
"I don't remember asking for your commentary."
"You didn't, but here we are." Her chair creaked slightly as she leaned in, enough to feel close without crowding.
Laura kept expecting Maya to drift away.
She didn't. This was different.
The explanation kept going. She didn't stop. She glanced at her. "Do you always talk to randoms in the library?"
Maya didn't skip a beat. "No. Just you. You seem interesting."
"That's... not what I usually get called." She looked back at her notes.
"What do you usually get called?" Maya asked.
"I don't even know you."
"Yet... And it's Maya, remember."
There was no one else at their table now. The room around them carried on with its soft background noise, a hum Laura barely noticed. Her laptop screen dimmed.
"You always sit here?" Maya asked.
Laura nodded. "Late afternoons. The light's better."
Maya looked toward the windows, thoughtful. "I was looking for a quiet spot. Guess I found one."
Laura risked a glance. "It's not always quiet."
"Yeah, I figured that out when you launched my binder."
Laura laughed under her breath. "I didn't see you."
"You were pretty deep in your rocks."
"They're important rocks."
"I'm sure they are."
Laura paused. Then: "You can sit here again, if you want."
"Yeah?"
She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "I mean, if it helps. For your... downfall planning."
"Mondays," Maya said at last. "I've got a gap after lecture. Could work."
Wait—was that flirting?
No.
Maybe?
Laura looked down, fiddling with her pen cap. "Okay."
Maya gathered her things without hurry, slinging the strap over her shoulder. At the end of the table, she paused. Her eyes caught Laura's again. That same directness, like she could feel it across the space.
"See you Monday," she said. Not a question.
Laura managed a nod.
Maya glanced back once as she stepped between the shelves—like she wasn't quite ready to leave the moment behind.
No one looked up. Not the students at the far table. Not the girl with her hood up. Like they were used to her being there, and used to keeping their distance.
Laura didn't move. Her laptop screen had gone black. The room looked the same.
Quiet. Still.
What the fuck just happened?
Laura dropped her bag inside the door of her apartment and stood there a moment longer than necessary, like the walls might confirm she hadn't imagined it.
The fan hummed in the corner, fighting a losing battle with the early summer heat.
Bonnie wound around her ankles, vocal and expectant. Laura crossed to the kitchen without thinking, scooped kibble into the bowl, topped up the water.
Laura carried her notes to the couch and sat. Spread them across the coffee table like order might help. Underlined a phrase. Wrote SYMBOLIC??? in the margin.
Pointless.
The only thing clear in her head was the steadiness of that voice, the directness of hazel eyes that hadn't looked away.
Half of what Maya had said hadn't even made sense. Quirky, maybe. Not unhinged. Too deliberate for that. But not ordinary either.
She's... hot. No. Stop.
Laura leaned back into the couch and stared at the far wall.
Okay.
Best case: she'd see her again. Coffee. Another conversation that didn't skid off into nothing.
Worst case: this was a one-off. Library chemistry. Heatstroke. End of story.
Acceptable.
She'd had girlfriends before. She knew how attraction worked. This wasn't new.
Her brain ran everything anyway. Seeing her again. Not seeing her again. Seeing her again and this becoming a thing. Seeing her again and this becoming a problem.
Somewhere in the middle of that, she started mentally pricing venues.
"God."
The wall offered no support.
Bonnie hopped onto the couch beside her and kneaded once before settling. Laura absently rested a hand on her back.
The notes blurred. Studying wasn't going to happen.
She leaned forward, grabbed her laptop, and clicked into the streaming tab. The algorithm offered a banner for the latest episode of Cedar Falls, one of those saccharine serials where everyone in a mountain town lived in each other's pockets. Bakeries. Hardware stores. Gossip in diner booths.
She hit play and sank back again.
Bonnie curled tighter against her thigh. Laura stared at the screen without following a word. All she could see was that slow, steady smile across the library table.
The episode rolled on. Bonnie lifted her head and meowed.
Laura looked at the clock, then frowned. She stood, went back to the kitchen, and poured kibble into the bowl.
Bonnie ate like she hadn't been fed in days.
Laura watched her for a second, then shook her head, almost laughing. "Right. Yeah. Already did that."
She went back to the couch and sat down again. "Fuck, Laura."
Maya dropped her bag by the couch and kicked off her shoes, already heading for the kitchen.
"Don't you say hello anymore?" Stef said from the armchair.
"Sorry—hey, sis," Maya said, not slowing.
She filled a glass at the sink, leaned against the counter, and drank it in one go.
Stef, curled in the armchair with her tea, watched her. "You sprinted past like I was the landlord."
"I'm thirsty." Maya set the glass down with a clink. Too loud, too quick.
"Sure." Stef took a sip. "You're also smiling at the cupboards."
Maya tugged open a drawer like she hadn't heard. "Had a good afternoon. That's allowed."
"Is it?" Stef said mildly. "Because you're acting like it's a crime."
"Relax. Nothing happened."
Stef raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't the question."
Maya glanced over. "What was?"
"What kind of good afternoon?"
"The regular kind. All green lights. Vending machine gave me two Snickers. That sort of thing."
"Uh-huh." Stef tilted her head. "You hate Snickers."
"Yeah well, today I liked 'em."
Stef considered that. "Wild."
Maya smirked despite herself. "Fine. I had a productive session in the library."
"Since when do you ever call the library productive?"
"Since today."
Maya reached for her glass again and tipped it back, only to realise it was empty. She frowned at it like it had tricked her, then set it down again. She'd expected the usual. Awkward laugh. Quiet exit. Someone folding. But Laura hadn't. She'd pushed back. Matched her.
It should've been nothing. It wasn't.
Later over dinner, Stef was halfway through her plate when Maya spoke, mostly to her food.
"I mean, it wasn't just the library. I had... a good conversation with someone."
Stef didn't look up. "Uh-huh."
Maya smiled faintly. "This one talked back."
Stef paused, fork hovering. "Oh."
Maya kept her tone light. "It was... easy. Surprising, I guess. Made the afternoon go faster." She twirled her pasta, eyes fixed on the plate.
Stef watched her for a moment, then said, almost offhand, "So, are you planning to see this person again, or is this a one-day miracle?"
Maya's grin broke despite herself. She shook her head, hiding it behind her glass. "Eat your dinner."
Stef went back to her plate. "Just asking."
Maya was still half-smiling, not bothering to stop it.
With dishes in the sink and Stef in her corner of the apartment, Maya closed her door, tossed her hoodie on the chair, and stretched out on the bed, phone loose in her hand. For a while, she stared at the ceiling. Hairline crack she'd meant to tell the landlord about. The hum of the building. Someone's music through the wall.
The afternoon replayed in fragments. Coffee. Library. Mild chaos. Cute archaeologist with the coffee order. The flinch when their shoulders touched. The way Laura didn't apologise for it. The moment she could've smoothed things over and didn't.
Laura had stayed.
Laura had started talking about Ice Age tools like it was the most normal thing in the world and left Maya to decide what to do with that.
She sat up and dragged her fingers through her hair. Lay back again. Reached for her phone, then didn't unlock it.
The word came back.
Aurig—
She smiled before she realised she was doing it. Shoved the phone aside, and let out a quiet laugh in the dark.
She'd never waited so hard for a Monday in her life.