Four faces turned toward the door, and every one of them was one Maya recognized.
Ryan sat closest to the window, a laptop open in front of him; papers were scattered across the table.
Beside him, Kingsly had a camera bag slung over the back of his chair, thumb already moving across his phone screen.
Two girls Maya knew from the student Guild Priya from the fundraising subcommittee and a sophomore whose name she always forgets sat across from them; each of them had a laptop in front of them with a glass of water.
“Maya!” Ryan stood so fast his chair scraped the floor.
“You made it.”
“You said we were meeting to plan the fundraiser.” Maya stood by the door, jacket still half on one shoulder.
“You didn’t say we were throwing a committee meeting.”
“I meant to text you.” Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, and for a second the easy warmth in his face flickered into something closer to nerves.
“Things kind of snowballed. Priya wanted in on the venue decision, and Kingsly’s covering it for the paper, so—”
“So it’s officially a Thing now.” Kingsly didn’t look up from his phone.
“Capital T. Congratulations, you’re both newsworthy.”
“We’re not newsworthy.” Maya crossed the room and pulled out the one open chair, setting her bag down with more force than necessary.
“It’s a silent auction. For a hospital. Not exactly front-page material.”
“Everything’s front-page material if you frame it right.” Kingsly finally glanced up, gaze sweeping over her outfit with the kind of assessment that made her wish she’d worn the cardigan after all.
“New look, Lin?”
“Same look. Different day.”
“Sure.” He smiled.
“Anyway. I’m just here to take a few photos of the planning process. Human interest angle. Local hero organizes charity event, campus sweetheart lends a hand, tragic children’s hospital gets new equipment. Very moving.”
“I will end this meeting.”
“Noted.” Kingsly held both hands up, phone still clutched in one, and went back to typing.
Priya slid a folder across the table before Maya could get any further annoyed.
“We pulled quotes from three venues. The community center’s the cheapest, but the ballroom at the Hyatt has better parking, and it’s closer to the hospital, so families with kids in treatment don’t have as far to travel.”
Maya opened the folder, and the nervous flutter in her chest the one that had been sitting there since Olivia zipped up her makeup bag settled into something steadier, something she recognized.
Numbers.
Logistics.
Ground she knew how to stand on.
“What’s the price difference?”
“Twelve thousand for the community center. Twenty-two thousand for the Hyatt.” Priya tapped the second page.
“So it evens out.” Maya flipped to the budget page, scanning the columns Priya had built.
Clean.
Organized.
She felt a small, unexpected rush of respect.
“This is good work.”
“Ryan made me redo it four times.”
“I did not”
“He absolutely did.” Priya didn’t even look at him.
“Once because the font wasn’t consistent.”
“Consistency matters,” Ryan said, and the sophomore across from him Maya still couldn’t place her name laughed into her water glass.
Maya bit back a smile and kept reading.
There was something almost restful about it, four heads bent over spreadsheets and venue photos, the low hum of the cafe around them, steam curling off someone’s abandoned latte two tables over.
This she understood.
This she could do without her pulse doing anything strange.
“I like the Hyatt,” she said, tapping the page.
“The parking matters more than people think. Half our donors are going to be older alumni. If they can’t find a spot, they don’t show up, and if they don’t show up, they don’t write checks.”
“That’s what I said.” Ryan dropped back into his seat, close enough that his knee brushed the table leg near hers.
“See, this is why I wanted you here from the start. You think about the stuff nobody else thinks about.”
“It’s not that deep. It’s just parking.”
“It’s never just parking with you.” He said while looking at her face and smiling; she blushed a bit
Kingsly’s phone clicked.
Twice.
“Did you just”
“Documenting the process.” He turned the screen around, and there she was, mid-sentence, finger pressed to the budget page, looking every bit as unglamorous and focused as she felt.
“This one’s good. Very ‘woman who has her life together.’ Running for the caption right now. Something like local do-gooder saves the day again.”
“Absolutely not.”
The sophomore Maya finally remembered, Bex checked her phone and grimaced.
“I’ve got a discussion section in ten. Sorry, guys, I have to run.”
“I’m right behind her.” Priya was already gathering her folder and laptop.
“Kingsly, walk with me? I need the flyer draft before six am tomorrow.”
“Duty calls.” Kingsly slung his camera bag over one shoulder; he took up his laptop before he left the table, he said.
“Try not to make more news while I’m gone.”
“Goodbye, Kingsly.” said Maya
“I’m just saying. I’ll hear about it either way, but you know I’m kidding. Tell Carter hi for me.”
He left with Priya, and then the cafe went quiet in a way it hadn’t been since Maya walked in.
Just the murmur of other tables.
Just the espresso machine hissing somewhere behind the counter.
Just her, Ryan, their laptop, and the folder of venue quotes between them.
Ryan cleared his throat first.
“Sorry about the ambush. I really did mean to give you a heads-up.”
“It’s fine.” Maya closed the folder.
“The work got done. That’s what matters.”
“That’s very you. Straight to the productive angle.”
“Is there another angle?”
He didn’t answer right away.
He was looking at her the way he sometimes did when he thought she wasn’t paying attention steadily, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use it, and Maya found herself very interested in the grain of the wooden table.
“The Hyatt, then,” she said, before the silence could stretch any further.
“I’ll email them tomorrow about a deposit.”
“Yeah.” Ryan blinked, and the moment folded itself back into something easier, something she could breathe around.
“The Hyatt. Sounds good.”
“Yes, it does,” she said.
Outside, the streetlights had come on, gold pooling across the sidewalk where the cafe’s windows let the evening in.
Maya reached for her folder, for her bag, for the ordinary shape of the night and found her hands weren’t quite as steady as she wanted them to be.