Coffee & Books Novels & Stories

39 I drink coffee until it makes my heart beat too fast. The refills are free and the waitress doesn’t talk to me like I’m a kid. This is why I stay, I guess. The way it feels like I’m okay to be here. The way it feels safe. The seats around me fill up with singles and duos. Laptops and notebooks. Actual books, too. I don’t have anything to occupy my hands or my eyes except the cup in front of me. I test out white sugar versus brown sugar. Sweetener. Sweetener and white sugar. Sweetener and brown. Cup by cup. I don’t look at the people around me. Something about them seems too real. The things they’re frowning at, mouthing at, even as they sit alone and type stuff or write stuff or make thei

The warm lights gave the cafe an ethereal and cozy glow. I ordered my usual honey cinnamon latte and sat on the far right corner near the bookshelves. My shift was due to start at around 9 and I had 30 minutes to kill so picked up a book on Greek mythology from the shelf while I waited for my coffee. It was a kind of place where book lovers handed out their well-loved books for this cafe, where people can exchange their recommendations and get to explore new genres. This cafe has been running for a little under a decade hence the shelves increased to hold onto the new books.

The cafe's entrance nods, a wooden door adorned with wrought-iron motifs, and I push it open with a sense of reverence. As I cross the threshold, the ambient sounds of the city give way to the hushed murmur of pages turning and the soft clinking of cups and saucers. The cafe unfolds before me like a bibliophile's dream – cozy nooks with mismatched armchairs, shelves reaching toward the ceiling, and the warm glow of pendant lights casting a spellbinding aura. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the faint hint of old books create scents that bespoke literary bliss. My chest vibrates with delight as I wander through the bookshelves, my fingers gently grazing spines laden with stories waiting

The coffee went cold while I was reading Fletcher’s text. I did not notice until I picked the mug up and the temperature was wrong against my lips and I set it back down and read the message again. “He has books on the coffee table now. Different ones every week. I don’t know what to make of it either.” I put the phone face-down on the counter. Picked it back up.

Elena's POV Unexpected Best Friend. It's the third day of college school, and my love for coffee hasn't wavered one bit. I'm a bona fide coffee addict, which probably explains why I work part-time at Relax Coffee shop. Today, like any other day, I couldn't resist the temptation of my usual hot cup of coffee. I mean, who can resist that delicious taste and the inviting aroma that fills the air?

He sat in the darkening office—he hadn't turned on the overhead lights, preferring the gradual fade of daylight to the abrupt brightness of fixtures—and he thought about the coffee. The coffee had been a project. Priya had taken it on sometime in the summer, after she'd noticed that Alexander was drinking the office brew without pleasure, consuming it the way he consumed most things: as fuel, as function, as something to be optimized rather than enjoyed. She had sourced beans from three different roasters. She had adjusted grind sizes and water temperatures and brew ratios. She had presented her findings in a memo that had made him almost smile, which was as close to smiling as he usually go

The rich smell of coffee wafted in the air and mingled with the scent of books and paper as the ever-capable John brought the warm beverage into the study. He had included sugar as well as milk on the tray, in case any of them felt up to it. “Thanks man, you’re a lifesaver,” said Nico as he gestured to the butler to lay the tray down on one of the tables that didn’t have their computers. He then turned to Ben, who was already dozing off on the papers, and called out to him. “Hey Ben, coffee’s here!”

PRESENT DAY... As agreed upon the night before, Mia was the one to provide the coffee. She carefully selected the beans from her favorite local roastery, ensuring they were fresh and aromatic. The rich scent filled her kitchen as she ground them, heightening her anticipation for the morning ahead. It wasn’t just about the coffee—it was about the quiet significance of the gesture. She wanted the first thing Erik tasted that morning to be something she had chosen, something that carried a part of her. As she poured the dark liquid into a thermos, she imagined his reaction—the way his lips would curve into that familiar, thoughtful smile, the same one that had always made her heart stutter, eve

The barista smiled and said, "I have no idea, but I'm sure it'll be interesting. And hey, if you ever need any more coffee or advice, you know where to find me." I smiled and said, "Thanks, I appreciate it. And who knows, maybe I'll even write a book about my experiences as a celebrity." The barista laughed and said, "Now that's a book I'd definitely read," the barista said, chuckling. "Just think of the title: 'From Writer to Celebrity: A Tale of Chaos and Coffee'." I laughed and said, "Hey, that's not a bad title! Maybe I'll have to use that."

After that, we went to a book cafe near by, they had a rule that you had to buy a cup of coffee to read a book and it was a good idea. I dropped my bags besides Max who was flirting with the barista who seemed to be enjoying what was going on. I walked through the store looking for one of my favorite books - Anne of the green gables. That was a book I read when I was younger and that book was one hell of a great one. "I got his number." Max came squealing. "Yeah, cool." I said while I continued to look for the book. "What?" Max asked with raised brows.