I only ever went for a run in Grant Park before noon on Sundays. If I ran any later, it would be too damn hot with too many tourists. I was also aggressively a morning person, and liked to start the day with movement and a clear head.

I finished my run at the Buckingham fountain and started the short walk over to Cloud Gate, also affectionately known as the Bean. A strong breeze rolled in off the lake and prompted me to exhale as I started to properly catch my breath. The morning air was cool enough that I hadn't worked up too much of a sweat.

I slipped my phone out from my FlipBelt as I walked and stopped my music in favor of the latest episode of my favorite podcast. The episode was just over an hour long and would stimulate my mind as I picked up a coffee on the way back to my apartment.

"I'm Ezra Klein, and this is the Ezra Klein show."

My run had already boosted my mood, but Ezra Klein's voice provided me with an additional boost of serotonin. He was my all time favorite journalist and New York Times columnist. Maybe one day when I acquired some political clout, he'd respond to one of the nerdy emails I'd sent him over the years.

I was so dialed into Ezra's analysis of the divided soul of American liberalism that I nearly didn't hear someone calling out my name. I tugged out an Airpod and swiveled around in my Brooks.

I saw the giant dog first. It was an English Mastiff, with patches of black and beige fur blended together on its back, who glanced up at me with a tilt of its big head.

I recognized the breed only because my parents' neighbors in Greenwich had adopted one five years ago, and Ines enthusiastically offered to walk it after getting home from school. She'd FaceTime me whenever Coco would riot and just sit her ass down on the sidewalk, refusing to participate in exercise.

But my focus on the dog was short-lived because he was holding its leash.

"I called your name like, four times." Montana chuckled, eyeing me from behind the dark lenses of his wayfarers.

I'd only ever seen him dressed in handsome business attire, but Sunday casual suited him. The gray Chicago Bulls shirt looked just faded enough to come across as vintage, though his On Cloud trainers didn't have a single scuff mark on them, and his black Nike shorts looked brand new.

Meanwhile, I wore a red racerback tank top, black running shorts, and white Nike baseball cap. At least the shirt was from Lululemon, making me feel somewhat put-together.

"Sorry, I was focusing on the complexities of liberalism in America." I tugged out my other Airpod and slipped them both into my Flipbelt. I hadn't brought the case, so this was the best I could do.

"Oh," Montana gave me a nod, and the dog slumped to the concrete, already resigned to the fact that he'd be there a while. "So what, you're chasing me around the city now?"

"You're the one who called my name four times."

He gave me a casual shrug. "Well, I've never seen you around here before."

"I moved to the city last month."

"Right," another nod. "Anyway, Jed's usually Rudy's morning chaperone." He patted the dog's head. "But he's out of town this weekend, so I've been forced to move my body before 10 AM today."

I grinned. "The horror."

Rudy hurrumped as if in agreement, and I felt my grin widen as I crouched down to pet his massive head. When I squinted up at Montana through the morning sunlight, one side of his mouth had lifted into a smile.

"He's still a puppy, isn't he?"

"He just turned two," Montana confirmed. "Acts like an old man though. He lets out these big sighs like everything in the world is an inconvenience to him."

"Well, it's a harsh world," I remarked as I stood up, grimacing slightly as my right knee complained.

"You okay?"

The genuine sincerity in his voice caught me slightly off-guard. I shifted my weight to favor my left leg. "Just knee pain. I'll ice later."

The breeze picked up again, pulling some of my flyaways into my eyes. When I brushed them away, I found myself looking at Montana head-on. Sunday casual really did look good on him.

"I'm going to go get a coffee if you're inclined to join," I proposed, rolling onto the toes of my Brooks to stretch my calves. I couldn't pinpoint what prompted me to extend the invitation, but I intuitively knew it was something I wanted to do.

"Do you mind a plus one?" Montana gestured down to Rudy.

"Not at all."

"Alright, I know a place."

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We brought our coffees outside to sit at a glass table situated on the sidewalk. The light blue umbrella above our heads was the same shade as the blue on the Chicago flag.

The streets were beginning to hum with Sunday traffic, though the sidewalks remained relatively quiet. I always appreciated peaceful moments in the city, which were few and far in between.

I leaned back in my seat with my iced oat latte in hand, the metal of the chair cool beneath the back of my bare legs. "So, I guess you got lucky."

There was a split second in which I thought Montana wouldn't remember our final exchange outside Goodfunk the other night, but his prompt smirk prompted me to set aside my doubt.

"Well, I am an inherently lucky person. I frequently win $10 on scratch-offs."

"And when you're not winning big on scratch-offs, how do you spend your days?" I asked, acutely aware that I knew next to nothing about him.

Montana's phone buzzed on the table, and after glancing down at it, he flipped it over face down. "Sorry. I work at KMPG in their state and local tax department."

I tapped my fingertips against the side of my coffee. "That sounds...interesting."

Montana deadpanned me as he slid his sunglasses up onto his head, his blue eyes bright even in the shade. "Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

His phone buzzed again, and he glanced down briefly at it. "Like...pretend that it doesn't sound boring. It is, but that's okay. I know I don't need to love my job. It pays for my impeccable style and Rudy's freeloading ass."

I chuckled before I felt my expression turn half-serious. "The only reason why I'm in Chicago is because I love my job."

"Right. You're a speech writer for the senator," Montana mused almost thoughtfully. "Sounds like a job that's easy to love."

His phone buzzed again.

I straightened, no longer able to ignore it. "If there's somewhere else you need to be-"

"No," he shook his head. "It's just my mom. I go home for Sunday dinner and she's just being high maintenance about peppers or something. Says the Whole Foods near me has better selection."

My shoulders relaxed as I gave an unexpected sigh of relief. "She lives in the city, then?"

"Oak Park," he told me. "It's about 30 minutes outside of the city. I grew up there." He drummed his fingers on the table, and a silver ring he wore on his pointer finger clattered against the glass. "What about yourself?"

"Greenwich, Connecticut. But my parents have had an apartment in Streeterville since 2013. That's where I'm staying now."

"Well shit, we're practically neighbors." He twisted in his chair and pointed behind me. "I live over on Washington Street."

"I'm familiar." I smiled and sipped my latte. Chicago was one of those major cities that also doubled as a small world.

Rudy abruptly woke up from his power nap and pawed at Montana's thigh with a huff.

"That's rude," he said to the dog. He then pushed the paper cup full of whipped cream across the table to me. "Wanna give it to him?"

"Oh, I'd be honored." I still wore that same smile from earlier and it dissolved into a chuckle as Rudy displayed the most energy I'd seen from him. He sat up straight and licked his massive jowls as he looked up at me expectantly.

I held out the cup to him, and he proceeded to stick his entire snout into the cup, seemingly slurping it up in one go.

"Dude, you really have no manners," Montana chuckled as Rudy removed his face from the cup, his nose decorated with a mixture of slobber and whipped cream.

"Wait," I said as Montana grabbed a napkin from the table to clean off Rudy's face. "I just need to send a photo to my sister. She's very fond of English Mastiffs."

"Call his name, he'll look at you."

I nodded and picked up my phone with a miraculously slobber-free hand. "Pose for me, Rudy."

He gave me the same head tilt he did when we first met, and I quickly snapped a photo while I momentarily had his undivided attention.

"Perfect," I said, grinning as I sent the picture to my sister. She was, in theory, still sleeping soundly in California.

"Alright, come here you fucking mongrel." Montana grabbed Rudy's face and wiped all the debris off of his snout. "It's like I've got a toddler."

My phone unexpectedly lit back up.

INES GREY: cute pup but WHOSE BOY LEG IS THAT? 🕵️‍♀️

I refused to answer at present and leaned back in my chair once again, more content with my Sunday morning than I cared to fully acknowledge. I would've been perfectly fine spending the day in my own company, but this right here and right now was perfectly fine, too. 

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from sar [ w1ldflow3r ]:

qotd: does going out for coffee count as a date?