Page 25 of Angel of Thursdays

“So the mandu dinner doubles as a tactical retreat,” May said. “Smart. I respect that.”

Cassiel’s hand lifted from the table. “It’s a dinner.”

“It’s a dinner that happens to be in the sleepy suburbs during Fleet Week. I’m not judging. I’m endorsing.”

Lauren pointed at May with her coffee cup. “I like him.”

The espresso machine made the grinding sound. A man at the window table closed his laptop with a thud, and May could have sworn the person at the window table was a lady before, so she must have left at some point, or he remembered wrong—and the café sounds went soft and even, and May was sitting in the warmth and also watching himself sit in the warmth from somewhere slightly above his left shoulder⁠—

“May?”

“Yeah.” He blinked and found his eyes in the right place again. This was happening more frequently lately. “Sorry—what?”

“I said do you want anything? I’m getting another one.” Lauren was already half-standing, wallet out.

“I’m good.” His fingers found his jawbone, pressed. The counter came back. The window came back. Lauren came back, still half-standing, looking at him with an expression that was friendly and also paying attention in a way that itched. “No, seriously. I’m good.”

“Don’t be polite. You’re owed a second drink for the bus fare alone.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” May said, because the alternative was arguing about it and the argument would cost more energy than the drink.

Lauren headed to the counter. The café felt smaller for her absence, the table smaller, the air between May and Cassiel suddenly… air. The barista greeted her by name, so Lauren came here too, which meant Sparrow wasn’t only Cassiel’s.

Cassiel was looking at his mug. The one he liked, which looked like all the others to May, but he was particular about this one, so May remembered its swirl pattern. He watched Cassiel’s thumb trace the rim.

“She’s great,” May said.

“She can be a lot.”

“Exactly, yeah. She’s great.” He leaned his elbows on the table. The wood was warm from the sun through the window. “How long has she known? About the STDY thing.”

“She suggested it.”

“Right, she said that. But I mean—does she know what it’s actually for? Not the app. The—” He circled a hand vaguely. “The whole thing.”

Cassiel’s thumb stopped on the rim. The ring wasn’t moving either. Everything still, the way it went still sometimes, and May had learned to wait.

“Lauren knows,” Cassiel said. May didn’t push.

“Good,” May said. “That’s good. She should be in on it anyway, since she’s a main character in our epic romance.”

And there it was.

Cassiel’s mouth moved. The corners pulled. The line of his jaw softened and his eyes changed and for a blink May saw the whole face rearrange itself into something unguarded and warm and real, and then it was gone, but it had been there. It had absolutely been there.

Almost-Smile #7. Except that one wasn’t almost.

May opened his mouth to say that, do that again, that one was close—and stopped. He picked up the dregs of his rose cardamom dirty chai latte and pretended to drink, because some things he didn’t pick at. Some things didn’t need to bleed or pop.

Lauren came back with three cups. She set the turmeric thing in front of May, and whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips as she looked between them. Her eyes narrowed. She sat down and said nothing, and that was actually the most dramatic thing she’d done since she arrived.

She left shortly after. She hugged Cassiel, properly, all long armed and pointy elbowed, squeezing. May watched the movement—the stiffening and the delay, and then Cassiel’s hands coming up to her back, a light touch, but a real hug nonetheless.

“May.” She pointed at him. “Phone, gimme.”

He unlocked it, handed it over. She typed, handed it back. Her number, saved under ‘Lauren B. Heineken’ with a lightning bolt emoji.

“Text me.” She squeezed Cassiel’s shoulder, waved at May with the hand holding her lime green to-go cup, popped her aviators back on her face, and strode out the door into a morning that decidedly did not require sunglasses.