Chapter 4
Silas
Two-thirty approaches and I've read the same page three times.
Devin keeps glancing at the clock behind the counter, then at me, then back at whatever he's cleaning. He's wiped down the espresso machine four times. The counter's so clean it's practically sterile.
He's nervous.
Good. So am I.
Robin says something that makes Devin duck his head, and even from here I can see the flush spreading across his cheeks. Then Robin literally shoos him away from the counter, pointing at my booth.
Devin pulls off his apron, grabs a book from under the counter, and walks over. He stops a foot from the table, uncertain.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi. You can sit."
He slides into the booth across from me, careful to stay on his side like there's an invisible barrier down the middle. His book, The Goblin Emperor, gets placed precisely parallel to the table's edge.
"How's Dragonflight?" he asks, then immediately looks like he regrets it. "I mean, you said you liked it, but —"
"I'm on chapter twelve."
His whole face lights up. "Did you get to the part where — no, wait, chapter twelve. You just met F'lar properly."
"He's kind of an ass."
"He gets better. Sort of. Okay, not really, but Lessa makes up for it."
"She's already my favorite." I show him where my bookmark, his note, is placed. "Thanks for the recommendation."
He stares at the receipt paper sticking out of the book. "You kept it."
"It's a good bookmark."
"It has a smiley face on it."
"I like the smiley face."
He ducks his head again, but I catch the tiny smile. "Most people think the Pern books are outdated. All that stuff about Impression and dragon bonds —"
"Sounds like shifter bonds, actually."
His eyes go wide. "I didn't — I wasn't trying to —"
"I know. But it's interesting, right? The idea of finding someone you're perfectly matched with. Dragons and riders, finding each other across a field of candidates."
"Have you... do lions have that? Bonds like that?"
"Sort of. We call it mate bonds, but it's not automatic. Takes work. Choice." I think about Knox and Toby, how Knox knew immediately but had to wait for Toby to choose him back. "The knowing might be instant, but the building takes time."
"Oh." He fidgets with his book's pages. "That sounds... nice. Better than the instant-forever thing."
"Yeah?"
"In books, it's romantic. In real life, someone claiming you forever without asking would be terrifying."
There's something in the way he says it, careful and considered, that makes me wonder what his experiences have been. Not much past twenty and living in a shelter. How many people have made decisions for him without asking?
"What's The Goblin Emperor about?" I ask, changing the subject.
He relaxes immediately. "It's about this half-goblin prince who becomes emperor after his father and brothers die in an accident. Everyone hates him because he's half-goblin, and he was raised in exile so he doesn't know any of the court etiquette or politics."
"Sounds complicated."
"It is, but in a good way. He's just... he tries so hard to be good, you know? Even when everyone expects him to fail. Even when being good makes things harder." He stops, flushing. "Sorry. I get excited about books."
"Don't apologize. I like hearing about them."
"Really?"
"Really. What got you into fantasy?"
"Libraries." He traces a pattern on the table with his finger.
"When I was a kid, the library was... safe.
Quiet. The librarians didn't ask questions if you stayed all day.
And fantasy was perfect because it was about being somewhere else.
Being someone else." He takes a deep breath.
"What about you?" he asks. "Why fantasy? "
"Honestly? Started with The Hobbit when I was seven. My mom read it to me and my brother." Before everything went wrong, before she left, but I don't add that part. "After that, I was hooked. Read everything I could find with dragons or magic or both."
"Your mom sounds nice."
"She was." I leave it at that, and he doesn't push.
"I've been meaning to reread The Hobbit," he says. "It's been years."
"Library has a beautiful illustrated edition. Saw it last week in the rare books section."
"They let you in the rare books section?"
"Margaret likes me. I fix her computer sometimes."
"That explains how you were still there after closing yesterday."
I freeze. "You noticed?"
"I — yeah. You were still reading when I left." He looks embarrassed. "I wasn't watching you or anything. Just happened to see."
"I was finishing the book I'd been reading. Wanted to start Dragonflight fresh." And I'd been killing time before following him, but I don't mention that.
"Did you know," Devin says, clearly desperate to change the subject, "that Anne McCaffrey wrote the first science fiction book with a female protagonist to win both the Hugo and the Nebula?"
"I didn't know that."
"Dragonflight. 1969. Pretty groundbreaking for the time." He's relaxing now, in his element. "And she was one of the first sci-fi authors to really explore consent in telepathic bonds, even if some of it seems dated now —"
He breaks off as Robin appears with two cups.
"Break means taking a break," Robin says, setting coffee in front of both of us. "Which includes beverages. On the house."
"Robin —"
"Devin, you've reorganized our entire storage system and memorized every customer's order in a week. You get free coffee." He looks at me. "You get free coffee because you're actually making Dev take his break for once instead of reading while standing behind the counter."
"I don't —" Devin starts.
"You literally ate lunch standing up yesterday while reading."
Devin goes red. "It was a good part."
"It's always a good part with you." Robin grins at me. "He reads like other people breathe. Constantly and without thinking about it."
"There are worse habits," I say.
"True. He could be into those awful reality shows Vaughn pretends he doesn't watch."
"I heard that," Vaughn calls from near the entrance, having just walked in.
"You were meant to," Robin calls back, then to us: "Twenty minutes, Dev. Actual break time. No cleaning."
He leaves to handle Vaughn's order, and Devin wraps his hands around his mug like he needs something to hold onto.
"Sorry about him. Robin's very... enthusiastic."
"He cares about you."
"He's just nice to everyone."
"No," I say carefully. "He's friendly to everyone. There's a difference."
Devin looks at me, really looks at me for the first time since he sat down. "Yeah. I guess there is."
We drink our coffee in comfortable silence for a minute. Then he asks, "What's your favorite fantasy series? Like, if you had to pick just one."
"Cruel question."
"I know, right? It's like picking a favorite child."
"Probably The Wheel of Time, but that might be nostalgia talking. Read it when I was fifteen and thought it was the deepest thing ever written."
"Fourteen books of braid-tugging and smoothing skirts," Devin says with a small smile.
"You've read it?"
"Twice. It's terrible and I love it."
"Exactly." I lean forward slightly. "What about you? Favorite series?"
"The Realm of the Elderlings. Robin Hobb."
"All sixteen books?"
"All sixteen books. Fitz and the Fool own my entire soul."
"Devastating ending though."
His eyes light up. "You've read them?"
"Last year. Cried like a baby at the end."
"Oh god, me too. When the Fool —" He stops. "No, I can't even talk about it without getting emotional."
"In the library?"
"In the library. Margaret pretended not to notice, but she brought me tissues."
I can picture it perfectly. Devin curled up in a library chair, crying over the fate of fictional characters, trying to hide it but too invested to stop reading.
"Okay, controversial opinion time," I say. "Better dragons: Pern or Earthsea?"
"Oh, that's not even fair —"
And we're off, debating dragon mythology across different series.
He gets animated when he talks, using his hands, leaning forward when he makes a point.
His earlier nervousness is completely gone, replaced by this passionate intensity that opens him up, makes him look like the person he is underneath the careful politeness and customer service smiles.
He's beautiful like this. Engaged. Present. Not hiding.
"— and that's why Temeraire is clearly the superior dragon series," he finishes, slightly out of breath.
"I notice you didn't mention Eragon."
"We don't talk about Eragon."
"But talking dragons —"
"We. Don't. Talk. About. Eragon."
I laugh, and he grins, proud of himself for making me laugh.
"Time's up," Robin calls. "Sorry, Dev, but the afternoon rush is about to start."
Devin looks at the clock, surprised. "Oh. Right."
He starts to slide out of the booth, then pauses. "This was... fun."
"Yeah, it was."
"Maybe we could... if you're here Monday..."
"I'll be here Monday."
"Cool." He stands, clutching his book. "I should — the afternoon rush —"
"Dev," I say, and he stops. "What time do you get to the library on Monday mornings?"
He blinks. "Usually around six-thirty. Why?"
"Just wondering. See you Monday."
He nods, still confused, and heads back to the counter. I watch him tie his apron back on, check the machines, fall back into his work rhythm. But he keeps glancing over at me, a small smile playing at his lips.
Monday morning. Six-thirty.
Maybe I'll just happen to be there too.
With my own book recommendation to slip him.