The person, be it gentlemen or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.

-Jane Austen

I watched the middle-aged pair in front of my table eyeing my spot and groaned; I couldn’t even have a mini-sofa to myself without people eyeing me. I ignored it, instead reading through Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey while putting on my best I’m-gonna-ignore-you expression.

But if there is one thing I’m not, it was being unaffected about these things. My brother Yoongi said so himself.

It’s not that you’re easy, sis, he would say in his best sage tone. You just don’t have enough swag.

And by the looks of it, apparently I was already fidgeting uncomfortably in my seat.

I shut my eyes and let out a harrowed breath, still trying not to show how irritated I was. The couple didn’t have the decency to even stare from afar. They were all I would see if I looked up from my novel.

Whatever. Anywhere was better than here right now.

Gulping down my hot chocolate, I closed the book I had intended to read, and maybe slammed it on the table a little too strongly.

The lady whispered something to her equally ugly date. "Honey, I told you we could get her to move!"

In a huff, I snatched my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and got up from the coffee table. Home was another long trip home. At least I could read in the subway.

I bumped into another patron a table away, who let out a surprised retort, but I didn’t even mutter an apology to him. At this rate, I was turning as bad as the inconsiderate couple who had settled themselves behind me. Not that I would even want to turn back and give them the pleasure.

I passed by the counter. “Taehyung-ah,” I called as I walked, waving at the wavy-haired barista, “I’ll get going now.”

He looked up from the cashier, glasses drooping on his nose as he took a customer’s order. “See you tomorrow, Yoonji!” he called back with a grin, bidding me goodbye.

I gave a small smile. He knew my name from when I had first visited the cafe, and always greeted me nicely when I came by. He even drew little doodles on my receipts. How sweet.

But it wasn't enough to douse the irritation inside me. 

I pushed the glass doors of the café, shivering a little as I left the cozy warmth for the chilly night. Pulling my coat tighter around me, I hunched over as I walked purposefully to the subway station. My boots made clunking sounds on the snowy sidewalk, my face dipping lower into the woollen scarf around my neck.

However, I barely found myself passing a couple of shops down when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I jumped in fright, waving my hands in slicing motions while letting out a high-pitched squeal that echoed in the silent sidewalk.

Through the blurry motions of my swinging arms, my mind was screaming in panic.

Yoongi, I’m gonna die and there’s no way for you to bestow your swagness on me. When I see Mom in heaven I’m never gonna look her in the eye and say I’ve failed as the elder sister-

“I’m so sorry!” the figure cried.

I paused. The voice…It sounded young, younger than I thought.

I opened my eyes, staring worriedly at the guy standing in front of me. He was wearing a hat, obscuring his hair, which was, I don’t know, pale in the dim lighting. Together with the long black coat, he had initially tricked me into thinking he was one of those y ahjussis with greying hair.

I shall not say how one had approached me when I was playing in the swings as a kid. I shall also not say how Yoongi came to my rescue before said ahjussi laid a hand on me. From then on, I avoided old men, as well as other members of their gender, as much as I could. Unless they were people I knew personally.

You can’t blame me for being paranoid.

Now, the stranger pulled his scarf lower, allowing me to see a youthful face. “S-sorry,” he added, scratching the back of his head, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He tried to give a reassuring smile.

I noticed the dimple immediately. 

How cute, I thought, before shaking my head.

No! He’s a stranger, cutie or not. You never know what he could do.

My hands balled into fists. I stared at him through narrow eyes, hoping I looked gangster enough. “What do you want?” I imitated my brother’s low, almost growl-like tone.

He gave a nervous laugh. “Ah. About that. You passed my table, and I think you left your book," he said. His voice was calm, composed.

I frowned. “B-book?”

He reached into his jacket, taking out Northanger Abbey, and I took it, blinking at it for a few moments. Didn’t I keep it as I left?

“You bumped into me,” he was saying, “I was sitting at the table in front of yours, and I saw it. I tried to look for you, but the barista said you already left.”

The person I bumped into earlier? Was that who he was? Now that I remembered, I had caught a flash of something dark as I passed him earlier.

I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Oh. Thanks," I said. “Sorry for, you know, bumping into you. I wasn’t focusing much.”

He smiled again. “It’s cool,” he said. “Anyways…Austen fan, huh?" 

We were both silent for a few moments.

I rocked on the balls of my feet, holding my book close. I already had to contend with some classmates ridiculing me for reading English classics and saying I had little regard for my own culture. 

"Yeah," I said. Inside, I groaned. Please go away, I begged.

What he said next threw me off-balance.

“It’s a good book. Um...what’s his name?” he snapped his fingers, trying to remember, before his face lit up, “Tilney! Tilney's a good guy," he said, which made me stare at him like he had sprouted a second head. 

What did he say?

"He is,” I found myself saying, a genuine smile framing itself with my lips, “Unlike Thorpe.”

He actually laughed. "Well, he's a pompous ,” he chuckled, as my heart swelled up with a happy kind of surprise, “Have you finished the book yet?"

I shook my head. “No, and don’t spoil it,” I warned him playfully.

He grinned conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” he reassured me, “How about we see each other when you do?” He reached into his pocket and took out a pen.

“What else do you have in there?” I asked curiously.

“With Songwriting as my major? Pens and post-its, mostly,” he joked, “Although my notepad’s back at the cafe. Where would you like me to-?”

I realized he was trying to give me his phone number. If Yoongi found out that a guy wanted to exchange numbers with me, he would be so shocked.

I gave him my book, smiling. “Here.”

He smiled again – wow, that dimple, though – and took the book from my hands, his cold fingertips brushing my own and sending shocks through my whole body.

When he handed it back, I looked down. “Namjoon?” I read aloud.

“Yeah,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier, what with all the fuss. You’re Yoonji, right?”

My head snapped up, my eyebrows furrowing.

“Ah,” he replied quickly, “I saw your name, on the front page.”

It was my turn to look flustered. “Right.”

He looked back to the café. “Well, I have to get back to my homework,” he said, “Or someone will take my table.”

I nodded. “Sure. Sorry to disturb you, Namjoon-ssi. Good night,” I told him.

As I turned, I felt him grab onto my wrist, and turned, surprised.

Namjoon looked down at our hands, releasing it and biting his lip as he looked down at his feet.

“You’ll call, right, Yoonji-ssi?” He asked, before looking at me almost hopefully.

I felt the heat rising in my cheeks.

Then I raised the book and gave him a smile. “Of course."

I bought my first Jane Austen classic at seventeen. After reading a lot of her more popular works, watching the movie adaptations, I stumbled upon Northanger Abbey and realized how much I could relate to the main heroine Catherine. It's significantly thinner than say, Pride and Prejudice, and it makes for a great read during my trips to school.

This chapter is for wonderful Yvonne aka Memorize for suggesting the birth of my own one shots. I owe it to you. :)