Adrian hadn't expected the morning to go this smoothly. Sure, there had been that awkward reunion with Emily in the elevator, the playful jabs about university memories still fresh from an hour ago. But now, as the clock inched toward lunch, he found himself thinking about her more than his unfinished spreadsheet.
He tried to focus on the columns in front of him—deadlines, shipment dates, expense reports—but his mind kept drifting to her laugh from earlier. It had been the same as in university—bright, warm, with that tiny pause at the end that made you feel like she was still holding back the rest of the joke.
At exactly 12:29, his stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. He shut his laptop and stood. The office was already in that pre-lunch shuffle: chairs scraping, people gathering their things, a few colleagues pretending to still work until someone else left first. Adrian grabbed his wallet and phone, making his way toward the cafeteria.
He spotted her just ahead in the hallway. Emily, hair pulled back into a messy bun, white blouse tucked neatly into navy trousers, holding her phone in one hand and a stainless-steel lunchbox in the other. She looked… unbothered. Like running into an old classmate was the most natural thing in the world.
"Hey," he called.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, it's you again. What a surprise. We never see each other in this building."
He smirked. "Careful, that sarcasm might get you written up."
Emily rolled her eyes, slowing her pace so he could catch up. "Heading to lunch?"
"Yep. And you?"
"Same."
They reached the cafeteria doors at the same time, pushing them open together. The place buzzed with chatter, the smell of fried food and fresh coffee mixing in the air. Long tables stretched across the room, each half-filled with clusters of coworkers.
Adrian scanned for an empty spot and found one by the window. "Want to sit there?"
She hesitated. "You sure you're not worried about office rumors? People here love connecting imaginary dots."
He shrugged. "Let them draw whatever picture they want. I'm hungry."
They slid into the booth, facing each other. Emily set her lunchbox down and popped it open, revealing neat portions of rice, vegetables, and what looked like chicken curry. Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Homemade?"
"Obviously. You think I'm paying cafeteria prices every day?"
"I was about to, yes."
He got up to grab his own food from the counter—a plate of pasta, a side of salad, and, because he couldn't resist, a slice of chocolate cake. He returned to find Emily already halfway through her meal.
"What?" she asked when she caught him staring at her lunch.
"Nothing. Just… you eat exactly the same way you used to in university. Small bites, clockwise around the plate."
Her fork paused midair. "You remember that?"
"Guess I do."
She shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. "You're strange."
"Better than forgetful."
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Every now and then, he caught her glancing at the cake on his tray.
"You want some?" he asked finally.
Her eyes lit up before she could hide it. "No. I'm fine."
"That was the least convincing 'no' I've ever heard." He slid the plate toward her.
Emily hesitated only a second before taking the smallest bite possible. She chewed slowly, almost reverently, and when she swallowed, there was a softness in her expression he hadn't seen in years.
"Still your favorite?" he asked.
She gave him a look like he'd just read her diary. "Maybe."
"Maybe, huh? I'll take that as a yes."
The conversation drifted from there—about the quirks of their boss, the terrible coffee in the vending machine, and how the building still had the same flickering light in the hallway since she joined. Time slipped faster than they realized.
By the time they stood to leave, Emily's lunchbox was empty, and the cake plate sat clean between them.
As they walked back to their desks, Adrian couldn't shake the thought that maybe lunch had been a little too easy. Familiar. Like stepping into a memory without meaning to. And for some reason, that scared him just enough to make him look forward to tomorrow.