Elowen arrived at the library ten minutes early the next morning, her hands clammy and her hair styled in a way that took her forty minutes (and three different attempts) to get right. She'd traded her usual oversized sweater for a fitted cream-colored sweater and high-waisted jeans, and she'd even put on a little bit of lip balm—something Maeve had always told her to do, but she'd never bothered with before. She felt ridiculous, like she was trying too hard, but she couldn't help it. Riley had been on her mind all night, her smile haunting her dreams and her voice replaying in her head.
The library steps were empty, save for a few students hurrying inside with their backpacks, and Elowen leaned against the brick wall, pulling her sweater tighter around her. She was starting to panic—what if Riley forgot? What if she'd been joking? What if Elowen had misread everything, and Riley was just being nice? She reached into her bag, pulling out her sketchbook, and flipped to a blank page, letting her pencil move across the paper, drawing Riley's smile from memory—soft, bright, a little lopsided. It helped calm her nerves, the familiar motion of the pencil, the way the lines took shape under her fingers.
"You're early."
Elowen nearly dropped her sketchbook, looking up to find Riley standing in front of her, holding two paper cups of coffee—one black, one with cream and sugar. She was wearing a different jersey today, this one gray, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she looked even more beautiful than she had the day before, the morning light catching the gold flecks in her hazel eyes.
"I… yeah," Elowen said, closing her sketchbook quickly, as if hiding it. "I didn't want to be late again."
Riley laughed, handing her the cup with cream and sugar. "I asked the barista to make it how I thought you'd like it—cream, two sugars. If it's wrong, I'll buy you another one."
Elowen took the cup, her fingers brushing against Riley's again, and took a sip. It was perfect—warm, sweet, not too strong. She smiled, looking up at Riley. "It's perfect. Thank you."
"Good." Riley leaned against the wall next to her, taking a sip of her black coffee. "So, Elowen Reed—art major?"
"Yeah. Studio art, with a focus on painting." Elowen nodded, taking another sip of her coffee. "What about you? Basketball, obviously. What's your major?"
"Kinesiology. Pre-physical therapy." Riley shrugged, as if it was no big deal. "I want to work with athletes, help them recover from injuries. Basketball's my life right now, but it can't last forever. Figured I should have a backup plan."
Elowen was impressed. She'd always admired people who knew what they wanted, who had a plan. She was still figuring things out—art was her passion, but she had no idea what she wanted to do with it after college, no idea if she could make a living as an artist. "That's cool. I don't even know what I want to do after graduation. Just… paint, I guess."
"You could," Riley said, without hesitation. "Your art's too good not share with people. That sketch I saw yesterday? Even smudged, it was better than anything I could ever draw. I can barely draw a stick figure."
Elowen's cheeks burned, but she couldn't help smiling. "You're just being nice."
"No, I'm not." Riley turned to her, her voice softer, more serious. "I mean it, Elowen. Your art has heart. It's not just lines and colors—it's feeling. That's rare."
Elowen looked into her eyes, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. There was something in Riley's gaze, something warm and intense, that made her feel seen—really seen, not just the quiet art kid, but Elowen, the girl who loved to paint, who was scared of being vulnerable, who had been hiding parts of herself for years. She looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks. No one's ever said that to me before."
"Well, they should." Riley nudged her shoulder lightly, a playful gesture that sent a jolt of electricity through Elowen's body. "So, what do you like to paint the most? Landscapes? Portraits?"
"Portraits, mostly. People." Elowen nodded, opening her sketchbook again and flipping to the page where she'd drawn Riley's smile. She hesitated, then showed it to her. "I… I drew this this morning. While I was waiting for you."
Riley's eyes widened, and she took the sketchbook gently, as if it were something precious. She stared at the drawing, her smile softening. "That's me."
"Yeah. I… I hope that's okay." Elowen's voice was quiet, nervous. "I just… You have a nice smile. It's easy to draw."
Riley looked up at her, her hazel eyes warm. "It's more than okay, Elowen. It's beautiful. Better than the real thing."
"No, it's not," Elowen said, before she could stop herself. "Nothing's better than the real thing."
The air between them shifted, suddenly charged, and Elowen realized what she'd said, her cheeks burning. She opened her mouth to apologize, to backtrack, but Riley just smiled, a slow, soft smile that made Elowen's heart race.
"You're cute, Elowen," Riley said, handing her sketchbook back. "Has anyone ever told you that?"
Elowen shook her head, looking down at her coffee cup, her heart pounding. "No. Not really."
"Well, they should." Riley took a step closer to her, their shoulders almost touching. "Listen, Elowen—I don't usually do this. Ask people out for coffee, compliment their art, stare at their drawings like a dork. But there's something about you. I don't know what it is, but I want to get to know you better. Like, a lot better."
Elowen's breath caught in her throat. She looked up at Riley, and there was no mistaking the way Riley was looking at her—warm, hopeful, a little nervous, too. For the first time in her life, Elowen didn't feel like hiding. She didn't feel like shrinking back. She felt brave, brave enough to say what she was feeling, brave enough to take a chance.
"I want that too," she said, her voice steady, quieter than Riley's but just as sure. "I want to get to know you better, too."
Riley's smile widened, bright enough to light up the entire morning. She reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind Elowen's ear, her fingers brushing against Elowen's cheek—soft, gentle, a fleeting touch that sent shivers down her spine.
"Good," Riley said, her voice soft. "Then how about this? Tonight, after my practice, I'll take you to that little diner downtown—you know, the one with the milkshakes? We can get dinner and talk more. No coffee stains, I promise."
Elowen laughed, a quiet, genuine laugh, and nodded. "I'd like that. A lot."
"Perfect." Riley checked her phone, then groaned. "Shit, I have practice in ten minutes. I have to go." She took a step back, but her eyes stayed on Elowen's. "I'll text you after practice, okay? Let you know when I'm done."
"Okay," Elowen said, smiling. "Good luck at practice."
"Thanks." Riley winked at her, then turned and hurried toward the gym, her jersey flapping in the wind. Elowen watched her go, her heart still racing, her coffee cup warm in her hands. She opened her sketchbook again, flipping to the page with Riley's smile, and added a little heart next to it—small, secret, a little silly. For the first time in a long time, Elowen felt hopeful, like something good was happening, something sweet and bright and full of possibility. She just didn't know that along with the sweetness would come conflict—family secrets, self-doubt, the weight of the world's expectations—and that their love would be tested in ways neither of them could have imagined. But for now, in that quiet morning, with the smell of coffee in the air and Riley's smile in her sketchbook, all Elowen could think about was tonight's diner date, and the way Riley's hand felt in hers, and the promise of more.