Celine never thought she'd enjoy a loud, crowded coffee shop. But somehow, with George's laughter echoing over the hum of conversation and the occasional hiss of steaming milk, it had become her favourite place.
She sat across from him, legs tucked beneath her, an open book in her lap, and a half-empty cup of chai in hand. He was pretending to study, pen tapping against his lip, but she could feel his eyes sneaking over the edge of his textbook every few seconds.
"You're not even reading," she teased without looking up.
"I'm reading you," he said, grinning.
Celine rolled her eyes some things never changed. But there was something softer in his smile now, less cocky, more real. She'd grown used to it. She liked it.
Their fingers brushed under the table, an unconscious habit they hadn't broken since the day everything changed in that library. They were still learning figuring out how to balance two strong wills, two opposite worlds. But it was working.
Slowly. Beautifully.
She leaned forward, dropping her voice. "You know, I used to think you were the last thing I needed."
"And now?" he asked, leaning in too.
"Now, I think you might've been the first thing I didn't realize I wanted."
George's grin widened. "Celine Thomas, are you getting sentimental on me?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
He did. Right there in the middle of the coffee shop, surrounded by laughter, clinking cups, and the scent of cinnamon and vanilla. And for the first time in a long time, Celine didn't mind the noise.