It was raining again.
Not the dramatic kind that called for umbrellas and soaked shoes, just a soft drizzle that painted everything grey and made the city feel quieter than usual.
Ellie pushed open the glass door of the bookstore on 7th Street, the bell overhead chiming gently. The same cozy shop where she had met him before.
She wasn't even planning to buy anything. She just needed air. Paper-scented air. A break from the café and her own thoughts.
She turned the corner near the graphic novels and there he was.
Again.
Same sketchpad tucked under his arm. Same slightly-too-long hair curling over his brows. Same sheepish smile when he noticed her.
"Oh hey!" Mart blinked, genuinely surprised. "We're starting to make this a tradition."
Ellie smirked. "You stalking me, Drawer Guy?"
He gasped. "Hey now, I thought we agreed I'd only stalk you on Wednesdays."
That made her laugh—a real one. Loud enough that someone nearby looked over.
"You remembered the nickname," he added, proud.
"It's hard to forget someone who spills coffee and mumbles about dramatic lighting in romance scenes."
"I maintain that was a power move," he said, mock serious. "A calculated artistic accident."
They walked through the aisle together. The conversation was easy, maybe too easy. Mart was all charming awkwardness: a little clumsy, a little too quick to fill silences, but in a way that made Ellie relax. Like he wasn't trying to impress her just to be there.
He pointed at a fantasy manhua cover. "That one? I illustrated it."
"No way." Ellie picked it up, eyes wide. "This is yours?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "One of my first big gigs. The heroine's proportions are totally off. I draw better now, I swear."
"You're allowed to be proud of your old work, you know."
Mart glanced at her, then smiled a little. "You're good at that."
"At what?"
"Making things sound less scary."
Ellie's chest did a weird little twist.
As they walked toward the front, Mart hesitated, shifting the sketchpad between his hands like it weighed more than it should.
"Hey, um…" he started. "Would you maybe want to grab coffee sometime? Like, not at your café. Somewhere neutral. Safer for coffee cups."
Ellie paused.
Jason's voice echoed in her head—the lies, the sweet nothings that turned sour.
She looked at Mart. Fidgety, honest-eyed Mart.
Her heart wasn't ready. Not entirely. But her laughter today had been real.
And she wanted to feel that again.
"…Sure," she said softly. "Saturday?"
Mart beamed. "Saturday sounds perfect."
That night, Ellie texted Max.
Ellie:
Drawer Guy asked me out. Help.
Max:
Drawer Guy??
Ellie:
The artist guy from the bookstore. Met him again. Didn't spill anything this time.
Max:
So what's the panic?
Ellie:
What if I say yes and get wrecked again?
Max:
Then say yes and don't expect wreckage.
He's not Jason.
Give the latte a chance to foam again.
She stared at his words for a long time.
Then, slowly:
Ellie:
Okay. I said yes. Coffee on Saturday.
But minutes later, her phone buzzed again.
Mart:
Hey—so sorry, just found out I've got a bunch of errands with my family on Saturday.
Would Sunday still work?
Ellie:
Yeah. Sunday's good.
She saved his number as Drawer Guy.
And for the first time in weeks, her smile wasn't because of Max's texts.
It was something new.
Maybe even hope.