Chapter Text
Ryland took an alternate route to work today. Usually, he rides his bike, but the weather was just too nice. He also wanted to stop by the new coffee joint that recently opened. It was just a few blocks away from his apartment and on the way to the school, anyway.
He steps into the cafe, taking in the ambience. The fresh smell of ground coffee beans hits his nose, along with a hint of something sweet. The cafe bustles with life. There are professionals stopping by for their morning order, students gathered at a table studying, and a few people sitting around reading. Wow, this place is popular.
Ryland walks toward the front counter and stands in line. Just a few people in front of him, this won't take long. As he stands idly, he notices an Eridian diligently working behind the counter. Their carapace is absolutely gorgeous, a pale brown with streaks of white, like a freshly brewed latte. Hues of green, grey, and silver seem to paint their limbs. Their body is adorned with engravings, customary in Eridian culture.
He feels his cheeks flush as he watches the Eridian barista move about the bar. They navigate the multitude of handholds and standing platforms with ease. They're so dexterous and precise with their movements. Goodness, he needs to tear his eyes away so he stops ogling.
Ryland eyes the menu for a moment, even though he knows he will order his usual drink. Anything to look natural and not like he's staring at the barista. He hadn't noticed the line moved up. He's up next.
Just play it cool. Be normal. Order your drink. Maybe strike up a conversation.
As he approaches the counter, he hears the melodic tones of a greeting. Good lord, their voice is just as pleasing.
"What can I get you?" asks the Eridian.
Your number, a traitorous part of his brain supplies. But he brushes it aside. "Uh- I'll get an iced honey latte."
"Whole milk is fine?"
"Um- yeah!" He blurts, mentally kicking himself in the shin over how nervous he's getting. He feels his heart palpitate. It's just, not every day you come across a person so gorgeous you feel like you could drop dead.
In all honesty, Ryland never paid much attention to others, humans and Eridians alike. He stopped trying to pursue relationships after far too many mishaps during grad school. Nothing serious, just incompatibilities. He's been content with being single, finding fulfillment in his alternate career path.
So what gives? He's been to dozens of local coffee joints. He's not the type to linger and chat, let alone seek out others while they're on the job. This is unusual, to say the least. Getting flustered while ordering is so unlike him! He develops crushes so infrequently. He feels like a grade-schooler; it's ridiculous.
"Your name?" The barista asks, interrupting his train of thought.
"Oh, um- Ryland."
And very stupidly, he asks, "What's yours?"
A momentary pause.
Oh gosh, how awkward. He can't believe he asked the barista for their name when, clearly, they were just asking him for the order. Time seems to drag on endlessly, making him want to squirm with discomfort.
"It's Rocky, and I'll get it right out for you, Ryland," the barista hums.
They tap a few things into their textured display. The monitor on his side of the counter displays the payment due. He passes over the credits, and the transaction is made.
Ryland quickly walks to the end of the bar, knowing that is where he'll retrieve his drink. He leans on the counter and exhales, not realizing he was holding his breath the entire time. Normally, he'd pull out his e-reader to get a few more pages in as he waited, but he finds himself unable to take his eyes off Rocky as they work. He's also still recovering from his embarrassing fumble.
The barista crosses the space behind the front counter, using the handholds to hoist themself across. They make it look so easy. Ryland would probably fall if he tried to do it himself. They grind fresh beans, prepare the puck, and pull a steaming shot of espresso.
"Do you usually watch others this intently while they make your drinks?" They ask so nonchalantly, just the hint of a tease in their tone.
Ryland's brain short-circuits. He sputters, having just seconds to come up with a convincing response. "Oh, uh- Sorry! Hah! No, just with you." Oh shoot, that makes it sound worse. "—Not that you're doing anything wrong, that is. You just look great moving about—Like a pro, or something!"
"Oh, is that so?" They laugh while reaching down to gather ice for the drink. "I don't know about being a pro, I've only been here for a few months."
"Oh, did you just move to SF?"
"Yes, with my mate."
If it were possible, Ryland would flush even harder. Of course, they have a mate. He directs his attention to the barista's forelimbs, noticing the aquamarine-like gem embedded near the carvings of their family crest.
A hopeful part of him recalls that many Eridians take on multiple mates, it being a normal practice for their species. There's still a chance...
"How're you liking it here?"
"Hmm, it's very pretty. The climate is preferable. We used to live in the Midwest. I'm an engineer, but I honestly needed a change of scenery. I'm taking a break from my profession."
Rocky pours the espresso shot over the ice. They wait a moment before adding in the milk, stirring the beverage together.
"I feel you there. I'm a molecular biologist, but I quit my postdoc a few years ago."
"Oh, so you're Dr. Ryland? Very impressive," Rocky teases. They pass the drink to Ryland, brushing their fingertips against his. He feels his heart stutter. "If I may ask, what made you leave your postdoc?"
Oof, not this. It's so mortifying. "I uh- made a complete fool of myself at a conference. I called a leading scholar in my field something... not so nice. I ended up leaving academia after that point. I don't think they want me back. So... here I am."
"Here we are," agrees Rocky.
Before he loses his mind with giddiness, Ryland glances down at his watch. Whoops, he should've left five minutes ago. "I better get going… I'm going to be late for work. It wouldn't be wise to leave my students unattended."
"A school teacher now? That's a nice pivot. I'm just making coffee. Not as impactful," they laugh softly. It's such an elegant sound. He could listen to their song forever.
"We need more people like you."
Ryland chuckles. "Haha, thank you. It's really fulfilling. I love teaching."
The conversation lulls. He really should leave now, but he lingers at the edge of the bar for a moment longer.
The worst thing they could say is no.
He starts, "Hey, um—" Rocky chirps in response, acknowledging Ryland. "Before I head out—Could I get your comm number? You seem really nice, and I'd love to get to know you more."
Rocky steps closer to the counter, closer to Ryland.
"I think I'd like that, too. I can give you my number..." They click their fingertips, contemplating. "I finish my shift at 19:00. Would you like to come by again? Maybe we could go on an evening stroll and talk some more."
"Yes. I'd like that," Ryland says, looking down at his drink with a sheepish smile.
"Pass me your comm," Rocky requests.
"Oh shoot, here!" He fumbles for his device, the wretched thing trapped in his jacket pocket. He passes it over, and Rocky presses their own device to it. In an instant, their contacts are exchanged.
Before Ryland pulls his hand away, Rocky grasps it gently. His heart absolutely flutters while his stomach does a somersault.
"I'll see you then, Dr. Ryland Grace."