Bar
You were good with dates.
Not romantic dates though, but dates, as in days in the calendar.
You remember the exact dates of some significant days in your life. People would say it’s a gift, that you remembered dates because most people don’t, but it has a downside to it. Yes, it was good that you remembered June seventh, the day you met your best friend, but it was shitty that you always remembered May tenth, the day you called it quits with your long-time boyfriend. You do your best to forget those days, but they just won’t leave your train of memories.
And today, the eighteenth of November, was a day you’ll remember forever.
After sitting on the train with Sebastian a couple of weeks before, you bumped into him twice. First on the eleventh, two days after the train, on the streets in the morning.
You weren’t the kind to work out and maintain a healthy body, but you cared about yourself. On Sundays, you made sure you went for a run and head to the nearest gym. And just recently, around a month ago, you found this gym close to your apartment. Before heading out to the gym, you usually went for a run. You always took the long way from your apartment to the gym because it made more sense to run around it rather than run just three blocks away.
Sebastian works out in the same gym with the owner as his trainer. What a beautiful coincidence, you thought.
All sweaty and red, you arrived at the gym with your earpods on. One of the employees greeted you and handed you the attendance sheet kind of thing because you were subscribed to a weekly work out. He, like he does every time you were there, asked if you wanted to upgrade to thrice a week, and you, like you always do, said you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment yet.
You headed to your spot, in the corner where there weren’t people. The gym wasn’t packed. A couple of guys were lifting, a few were on the treadmills, and a couple more guys were talking near you. Ignoring everyone (not that you had their attention), you started working out as usual.
You kept your earpods tucked in your ears as you worked out, blocking everyone else from your mind.
Around twenty minutes in, you were exhausted from lifting and squatting and everything, so you took your iPod from the back pocket of your gym and stopped the music playing. Sighing, you went to the nearest bench and took a seat.
“So, gym, huh?”
Startled, you almost jumped from your seat.
“What the hell, you need to stop doing that!”
Laughing, Sebastian sat beside you. “How are you?”
“Having a heart attack,” you answered.
“Here,” he said, handing you a bottle of water. “Noticed you didn’t bring one. It’s new.”
“You?”
“Nah,” he shrugged and shoved the bottle in your hand. “I’m done. Around half an hour ago. I just waited for you to be done as well to say hi."
“You did?” you asked, opening the bottle. “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “Where are you going after this?”
“Home,” you answered, taking a big gulp of water before talking again. “I’m done for the day.”
“It’s only eight,” he remarked. “Let’s grab some coffee? From the café we met."
You shook your head. “I’m all sweaty.”
“So am I.”
“But you still look great.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t. You do. Come on.”
“I would still have to go home, though,” you said. “I don’t bring any money with me when I come here. Just my trusty iPod.”
“It’s on me,” he insisted.
You immediately shook your head and protested. “No way.”
“Yes,” he said. “Come on.” He stood up. “I’ll get you a cup of your latte.”
“No, Sebastian,” you protested. “We’ll grab coffee. I just need to get home to get myself some money.”
“If we go now, get our coffee, talk a bit, then you can go home and you’ll be done for the day for real,” he said. “It’s fine, (Y/N). You can pay me back when we see each other again.”
You bit your lip and thought about it for a while, but sighed when he started pouting his lips to lure you. It worked.
“Fine, let’s get some coffee.”
The fourth time you saw Sebastian Stan, you bought him an ice cream.
You stopped on your way back home from work to reward yourself with a cone of ice cream from the shop near your apartment. Screw all the calories, you were going to the gym in a couple more days anyway.
Literally, you bumped into him as you struggled to take your phone out of your purse. He was on his phone as well, texting or whatever, and your small frame collided into him, making you almost stumble.
“I’m sorry, I—” he stopped when he saw it was you, holding your arms to help you keep yourself from falling. “(Y/N)!”
You pulled away and cleared your throat. “Sebastian, hi. I’m sorry I was trying to get my pho—"
“It’s alright, I wasn’t looking as well,” he interrupted. “You heading home?”
You nodded. “I’m just stopping for some ice cream. You?”
“Grocery store,” he answered. “Ran out of pizza rolls.”
You laughed with him. “Uhh, wanna grab some ice cream? I mean, I do owe you for that coffee the other day.”
“Sure,” he said immediately and turned around to walk the same direction as you. “So, where do you live?”
“What, you plan on stalking me?” you joked.
“Darling,” he said dreamily. “You’re the one stalking me. We keep bumping into each other.”
“It’s just coincidence,” you retorted, sticking your tongue out for him as you took a turn for the ice cream shop. “Don’t take your hopes up. Not every girl is out there to chase you."
“Ouch,” he said, pouting as you entered the shop.
You laughed, making your way towards the counter and looking up the menu. “I live in the Bridgette building, a block away from yours.”
“Why do I never run into you there?” he asked.
“I leave for work early,” you answered and turned to the employee in front of you. “I’ll have chocolate chip please.” And then you turned to Sebastian.
“Cookies and cream,” he told the cashier who smiled dreamily at him.
“That will be three dollars and twenty-five cents, Mr. Stan,” the lady sweetly said.
You stopped yourself from cringing and handed the girl four dollars, telling her to keep the change. She thanked you in the most boring manner and then went back to smiling at Sebastian.
Rolling your eyes, you turned to find yourself a table. He followed you, laughing.
“Seems like every girl really is out there to chase me,” he joked.
“Not me, Sebastian,” you answered sitting down.
“Please,” he said. “Call me Seb. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”
You nodded. “Alright, Seb. So, why cookies and cream?”
“You’re lame in conversations,” he said. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I plan on skipping dinner and jumping into bed immediately. Well, after I take a shower and feed my dog. Netflix then sleep.”
“Boring,” he commented and leaned back.
“Well,” you said, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing. “Entertain me with your night plans then.”
“After this and getting my grocery, I’m heading back home. I’ll fix all my groceries first, then make myself a sumptuous dinner you would die for. Wash the dishes, then head to my room. Get my iPad, scroll through Instagram, read the book my friend gave me after that, then watch whatever. Then sleep.”
“Boring!” you said, laughing.
The girl from the counter walked towards your table and handed your ice cream cones. She was batting her lashes and smiling so widely, it was almost creepy.
“Thanks for the treat,” he said before diving in. You tried your best not to watch him lick his ice cream.
“I owe you, so here’s my payment,” you said with a shrug.
You ate in silence, keeping your eyes away from him. Then he spoke.
“Cookies and cream ice cream reminds me of the cupcakes my Mom used to bake.”
Seeing him in the gym and bumping into him on the street were memorable. But tonight was different.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he greeted, raising his (you guessed) rum and coke to toast with yours. “Didn’t expect to see you here on a Friday night.”
“Yeah,” you agreed. “I still have work tomorrow so I shouldn’t be here but it’s my friend’s birthday and I’m taking advantage of unlimited drinks.”
“Why are you alone, though?” he asked.
“They’re doing body shots,” you answered, cringing. “Not my thing.”
“Woah, how old are they?"
You laughed. “They think they’re still on their early twenties but they’re almost 30.”
“I’m guessing you’re almost 30, then,” he said, sitting on the stool beside you. You turned a little, so you were facing him.
“Please don’t remind me,” you groaned. “I’m 29. It’s shitty.”
“I’m 34, it’s shittier,” he replied.
“It’s alright, you’re a man. You men don’t age. Unfair.”
“We do,” he said. “I get backaches.”
“Ew,” you joked. “You here alone?”
He shook his head. “I’m with my friends, but I needed another drink.”
“You should go back then, they must be waiting for you.”
“And let you sit here alone? Hell no!”
You blushed, but shrugged it off with a laugh and drank the rest of your drink.
“I’d offer you another drink but you’re ‘taking advantage’ of your unlimited drinks,” he said, drinking his own. “Wanna go dancing?”
“We’re too old for that.”
“Darling,” he almost whispered, standing and taking your hand. “Nobody’s too old to dance.”