Another Monday morning at Hazel's Café. The espresso machine screamed like a banshee, and Stacy wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. It was a typical day in her life: open the café, serve customers, manage the counter, and repeat—until everything changed.
A boy walked in.
He was tall, thin, with messy hair that looked artfully undone. Stacy stared at him for a second too long before a voice snapped her back to reality. "Hey, Stacy! Get back to work." Her manager, Josh, glared from behind the pastry case. Flusterd, she turned back to the cappuccino order she'd been neglecting.
Minutes later, the same boy—the one who'd stolen her attention—leaned against the counter. "Hey", he said, a playful tilt to his lips, "Can I get a black coffee? Easy on the sugar."
"Y-yes, of course." Stacy fumbled with the cup. "Name for the order?"
"Ethan"
"Thank you. That'll be $4.43." She glanced up, and for a heartbeat, she felt like she was drowning in the ocean of his eyes.
Ethan paid, then lingered by the pickup counter while she brewed his drink. When it was ready, she called out, "Mister Ethan?"
"Right here, lady." He grinned, as if they were sharing a secret.
"Here's your coffee." She handed it over, her fingers brushing his just long enough to send a spark up her arm.
"Thanks." He took a sip, then settled at a corner table. With the morning rush fading, Stacy gathered her courage and approached him.
"Hi," she said, her voice barely steady. "Are you new in town?"
"No ,but I came here after a long time" he said, his tone warm. "Actually, I realized I never got your name."
"I'm Stacy," she blurted, then immediately wondered why her heart was racing.
"Nice to meet you Stacy", As he moved his hand for a handshake.
"Nice to meet you too, Ethan." Her heart raced like ahummingbird's wings, but she swallowed her nerves and slid her hand into his.
The moment their skin touched, time stuttered.
It was the sweetness of honey melting into tea, the first golden streak of dawn hitting a window—something inevitable, something electric.
"You're in high school?" Ethan asked, his thumb brushing her knuckles before he let go.
"Yes," she said, too quickly. "You?"
"Same." He grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Guess we're twins."
"Twins?" She blinked.
"Yeah. Same age, same caffeine addiction—" He raised his cup."Destined to meet", He said while laughing. Stacy joined him too.
Ethan drained the last of his black coffee, then smirked. "I've got a compliment to give, but I'm stuck. Do I praise the coffee… or the girl who made it? Both are perfect."
Stacy's brain short-circuited. Was he…? No. He couldn't be…? "So you can flirt," she blurted.
"Fortunately." His smile widened. "And I'm just gett—"
"STACY!" Josh's roar sliced through the café. "Stop daydreaming! Table 3's waiting!"
She jumped. "Sorry, Ethan. Duty calls."
He stood, chair scraping, but didn't leave. Instead, he leaned over the counter—close enough that his whisper tickled her ear. "Guess I'll have to come back tomorrow. Save me a coffee."
Then he was gone, the bell jingling behind him.
Stacy clutched the counter, her heart hammering. He's coming back. For me.
Across the room, Josh scowled. "That guy? Trouble. I've seen his type before."
But Stacy wasn't listening. Because tucked under Ethan's empty cup was a folded napkin—and inside, a scribbled note:
"Best black coffee I've ever had.
(And the prettiest smile I've ever seen.)
Thankyou cute barista
— Ethan"