Uptown Cafe is the place where people with high five-digit salaries go to take a break from their 9 to 5 workday. A regular cup of their Brazilian coffee costs $9 and a gluten-free bagel costs $7.50. Their cups, napkins, and straws are all made from recycled or biodegradable materials, their ingredients from reliably sourced regions, and their foreign workers paid livable minimum wages in their respective countries.

That's why Humaira Hamad, despite her college-work-study-money salary, always bought her morning exam coffees from Uptown. The place was usually filled with the affluent students from her college who touted its ethical standards as their pride.

Humaira entered Uptown on a particularly stressful morning. Her first geophysics midterm of the semester was in an hour and she left her home with a breakfast of two gulps of water and a banana. Uptown was a ten-minute ride away from campus if she caught the bus at the right time.

Or she could run and still make it in about fifteen minutes—which isn't recommended.

Nobody was standing in line when Humaira walked in. The silent bright lights and the smooth wood panel walls and floors brought her racing heart to a crashing calm. Two tables were open; one was by the windows and the other in the center of the cafe. She exhaled and walked towards the counter, repeating the order in her head: 'I'd like a medium mocha, yes milk and cream.' No— 'I'd like a medium mocha with milk and cream, please.' Yes, better.

"Hi, uh, I'd like a, uh, medium mocha and with milk and cream."

"A medium mocha with just milk and cream, is that right ma'am?"

"Yes, please."

"Alrighty then. Anything else with that, ma'am?" Humaira shook her head. "And how would you like to pay?" Humaira offered her student MasterCard. The woman swiped it through the machine and handed it back. Her eyes darted over Humaira's shoulder out of habit, checking for any customers. She quickly looked back at Humaira to give her a morning smile. "Just give me a moment and I'll have your drink ready." Humaira nodded and glanced at her watch.

It was 8: 40 a.m. The exam was at 9:15.

Humaira shifted to a side and tapped her finger along the counter. She could stay here for twenty minutes and try to relax. Then she'd have a minute to walk to the bus stop and the rest 14 minutes to catch a bus and get to class.

"Here you go!"

Humaira looked up and saw a steaming cup of coffee being offered to her. She smiled her thanks to the barista and took it. She could feel the heat seeping out of the (made from recycled paper) cup but Humaira didn't mind too much. She turned to take a seat–

"Oh, sorry," Humaira smiled at the navy-shirted guy behind her. He was wearing a pair of large, black-framed glasses that were almost identical to hers. (Unlike hers though, his glasses looked expensive, if that's even a noticeable thing.)

He noticed her glasses too, and replied, "I like your glasses."

For a moment Humaira was brought back to the day she chose them out. She was at a local eye doctor who took her government-paid insurance and offered no other style for someone her age.

"Thanks. Yours are nice, too."

Humaira let the conversation end there and swerved to take the still untaken window spot. Those were the best seats in the whole of Uptown. With tinted glass, you could bravely sit there without the fright of someone staring at you while you watched the hustle of the urban scenery.

Once situated, Humaira took out her geophysics notebook and the four-chapter review sheet she'd been writing up on the weekend. She didn't intend on really studying, though. Because the time for studying was over. The hours before an exam, you either know it or you don't. What Humaira did plan on doing, however, was to flip through the pages, reading off equations and graphs here and there, and feel the earthy physics like it was part of the bones that made up her skull.

Humaira was distracted when she caught sight of the same slick, blue shirt approaching the empty seat across from her. They made eye contact and Humaira smiled again. This time, he smiled back; and it was then she realized he wasn't just anyone; he was a student in her geophysics class.

He took a few sips of his coffee before he spoke up. "You made that for today's exam?" His eyebrows were raised and his voice held all the signs of wonder.

Humaira felt her heartbeat thump rather quickly. "Yeah!" But her voice was quiet because they couldn't interrupt the quietness of the cafe. "You can take a look."

"Sure," he chuckled and accepted the offered guide. Humaira held her breath as he flipped through the pages of multi-colored equations, notes, and diagrams, mocha eyes shifting behind his glasses. "This is better than any textbook," he finally said, looking up.

"Yeah?" Humaira glanced out the window for a second, overwhelmed by the compliment, then back at him. "Thanks."

He tapped the study guide. "You're going to ace this exam," he added, leaning back. "Thanks for letting me look." He handed it back and Humaira nodded. " My name's Patrick, by the way."

"Oh, right!" Humaira was relieved she wouldn't have to ask for it and potentially sound self-centered for not remembering her own classmates' names.

He held out a hand for a handshake. Humaira stared at it. He withdrew.

"Humaira," she said instead, hoping he didn't take it the wrong way. "My name is Humaira."

Patrick nodded to acknowledge it and she took a sip. "Are you majoring? In Earth Science, I mean."

"No." Humaira shook her head and hesitated to say, "English." Then added, "Physics minor."

"Ah. That's a pretty cool mix." He locked his gaze on hers. "Maybe a career in architecture?"

Humaira opened her mouth then closed it, realizing he hadn't criticized her major. In fact, he complimented it!

"I never thought of that," Humaira conceded. Most people would furrow their brows at such an unorthodox mix and gloss over it to continue the conversation. "But I might drop the minor. It's a pain."

"Nah, don't say that." He leaned in just a bit. "Just look at all that you've got there."

The words made Humaira smile a little. "I hope so. What about you?"

"Earth science, engineering side," he said.

"That sounds really cool." Humaira found herself leaning in too, with a genuine smile on her face. "Saving the world and all that."

"Yeah. That's the plan," he added with a wink. Was that a wink? Yes, the quick shutting of one eye is the definition of a wink.

Humaira held her breath at the flirtatious move. Didn't he see the black hijab on her head? The flow of her abaya? Maybe he didn't know flirting with a Muslim was a mistake in the making. Maybe she didn't know it would be the best mistake of his life.

"I'll root for you." Humaira smiled as she absently flipped through her notes.

"Thanks, Humaira. Hey, you think we should get going?" he asked.

Humaira looked at her phone to check the time. It was already 9 a.m. She rushed to get up.

"Oh my God, yeah, let's go!" Humaira put her papers away and walked after Patrick. He held open the door for her. "Thanks."

"Yeah." The two began walking when Patrick turned to round the corner. Noticing that Humaira hadn't, he stopped. "Oh, you're not walking?"

"No way, I can't walk that fast," Humaira said with a small laugh. "Don't got the legs for it like you do. I'm taking the bus."

"Alright, I guess I'll see you in class then. Good luck, too. But I don't think you need it."

Humaira felt her facial temperature rise and didn't realize that she lifted a hand to wave him goodbye. His eyes widened slightly at the friendly gesture and his face broke out into a full-on grin as he waved back.

When Patrick had walked away, and Humaira had stopped smiling, she thought, 'God help me.' But it wasn't in reference to their upcoming exam.