Almost Love, Then Everything - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading Almost Love, Then Everything, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of Almost Love, Then Everything.
The next Tuesday came too quickly—and not quickly enough.
Leah had spent the entire week replaying that accidental tea moment and Jade’s easy smile like a favorite song. Her hands couldn’t stop sketching that scene—the curve of a smirk, eyes under soft bangs, the way their fingertips had almost touched.
And now, she was standing outside “Willow & Words” again, trying to calm the quiet flutter in her chest.
Inside, everything was the same—the gentle jazz playing through the speakers, the old man in the back with his mystery novels, the chalkboard menu with crooked lettering. Everything… except her.
And then Jade walked in.
Like she’d been there all along.
Same flannel shirt. Different color. Same confident stride. But today, she carried a notebook and a small pen clipped to her collar.
She spotted Leah instantly.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Jade said as she slid into the seat across from her, without waiting for permission this time.
Leah tilted her head, a smile already forming. “I wasn’t sure either.”
Jade’s eyes flicked to her sketchbook, which was halfway open. “Do you draw all the people you talk to, or just the lucky ones?”
Leah flushed slightly, but didn’t close it. “Only the ones I can’t stop thinking about.”
Jade blinked once. Then smiled. Slowly.
“Well,” she said, leaning forward, voice low and teasing, “I hope you got my good side.”
They ordered tea again. No mix-up this time. Two lavender, two hearts pretending not to race.
—
They talked.
About little things first—books they hated that everyone loved, the town’s lack of excitement, Jade’s odd obsession with typewriters.
Then about deeper things. Like why Leah left art school. Why Jade moved to Amblewood at all. How Leah had once fallen out of love with the idea of love.
“I just stopped believing it could feel real,” she admitted softly, tracing a fingertip across the condensation on her cup.
Jade didn’t laugh. She didn’t look away.
Instead, she said, “You don’t have to fall all at once. Sometimes it’s okay to tiptoe into it.”
That moment lingered longer than it should have.
—
Outside, the sky was beginning to turn golden—late afternoon sunlight catching the windows like warm amber glass. Jade stood reluctantly, as if pulled by time she didn’t want to obey.
“Same time next week?” she asked again, but her tone was different this time.
Not playful.
Hopeful.
Leah met her gaze and nodded.
But just as Jade turned to leave, Leah surprised herself—and her.
“Wait,” she said, reaching out and touching Jade’s sleeve.
Jade turned, eyebrows raised.
Leah bit her bottom lip, gathering courage.
“Do you want to see the sketch?”
Jade’s eyes softened. “Only if I look like a masterpiece.”
Leah handed it over. It wasn’t perfect. A little rough. A little unsure.
But it was real.
And Jade looked at it the way someone might look at a memory they didn’t realize they missed.
She handed it back gently, her fingers brushing Leah’s.
“You saw me,” Jade said. “Before I even said anything.”
Leah nodded. “I think I did.”
Outside, the wind picked up, blowing through town like a hush before something new.
Something was beginning.
And this time, they both knew it.
—
Next Tuesday couldn’t come soon enough.
Leah had spent the entire week replaying that accidental tea moment and Jade’s easy smile like a favorite song. Her hands couldn’t stop sketching that scene—the curve of a smirk, eyes under soft bangs, the way their fingertips had almost touched.
And now, she was standing outside “Willow & Words” again, trying to calm the quiet flutter in her chest.
Inside, everything was the same—the gentle jazz playing through the speakers, the old man in the back with his mystery novels, the chalkboard menu with crooked lettering. Everything… except her.
And then Jade walked in.
Like she’d been there all along.
Same flannel shirt. Different color. Same confident stride. But today, she carried a notebook and a small pen clipped to her collar.
She spotted Leah instantly.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Jade said as she slid into the seat across from her, without waiting for permission this time.
Leah tilted her head, a smile already forming. “I wasn’t sure either.”
Jade’s eyes flicked to her sketchbook, which was halfway open. “Do you draw all the people you talk to, or just the lucky ones?”
Leah flushed slightly, but didn’t close it. “Only the ones I can’t stop thinking about.”
Jade blinked once. Then smiled. Slowly.
“Well,” she said, leaning forward, voice low and teasing, “I hope you got my good side.”
They ordered tea again. No mix-up this time. Two lavender, two hearts pretending not to race.
—
They talked.
About little things first—books they hated that everyone loved, the town’s lack of excitement, Jade’s odd obsession with typewriters.
Then about deeper things. Like why Leah left art school. Why Jade moved to Amblewood at all. How Leah had once fallen out of love with the idea of love.
“I just stopped believing it could feel real,” she admitted softly, tracing a fingertip across the condensation on her cup.
Jade didn’t laugh. She didn’t look away.
Instead, she said, “You don’t have to fall all at once. Sometimes it’s okay to tiptoe into it.”
That moment lingered longer than it should have.
—
Outside, the sky was beginning to turn golden—late afternoon sunlight catching the windows like warm amber glass. Jade stood reluctantly, as if pulled by time she didn’t want to obey.
“Same time next week?” she asked again, but her tone was different this time.
Not playful.
Hopeful.
Leah met her gaze and nodded.
But just as Jade turned to leave, Leah surprised herself—and her.
“Wait,” she said, reaching out and touching Jade’s sleeve.
Jade turned, eyebrows raised.
Leah bit her bottom lip, gathering courage.
“Do you want to see the sketch?”
Jade’s eyes softened. “Only if I look like a masterpiece.”
Leah handed it over. It wasn’t perfect. A little rough. A little unsure.
But it was real.
And Jade looked at it the way someone might look at a memory they didn’t realize they missed.
She handed it back gently, her fingers brushing Leah’s.
“You saw me,” Jade said. “Before I even said anything.”
Leah nodded. “I think I did.”
Outside, the wind picked up, blowing through town like a hush before something new.
Something was beginning.
And this time, they both knew it.
—
Next Tuesday couldn’t come soon enough.
End of Almost Love, Then Everything Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to Almost Love, Then Everything book page.