The next day came faster than I wanted. My body felt like it had only been asleep for ten minutes before my alarm screamed at me.
By the time I walked into work, Steven was already there, leaning casually against the counter like he owned the place.
"Well, well… if it isn't my favorite clumsy coffee girl," he said, grinning.
I groaned. "That's not even a good nickname."
"It's accurate though," he shot back, eyes glinting.
I was about to tell him exactly where he could shove his "nickname" when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Taylor.
"Hey," I answered quickly, turning my back a little for some privacy. We chatted for a few seconds just the usual update about her chaotic morning until I noticed Steven watching me.
"You know cellphones aren't allowed during work hours, right?" he said, raising an eyebrow.
"Who are you talking to?" he asked.
"None of your business," I said, sliding the phone back into my pocket.
"Okay." He extended his hand, palm up, waiting. Reluctantly, I handed over the phone, and he dropped it into the box with the others.
Then, he held up the bracelet I'd left on the counter yesterday.
"You forgot this," he said. His tone was light, but his eyes… maybe a little sharper than usual. "And since it's your first day, you should probably follow all the instructions."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said. Slipping the bracelet into my pocket without breaking eye contact.
He leaned in, close enough that I caught the faintest trace of cedar and something warm. "No," he said. "I think you should keep it on."
For a moment, neither of us moved. The air between us felt heavier, I could smell his strong perfume. Then, with a quiet hum, he turned away as if nothing had happened, leaving me standing there with the bracelet burning in my pocket.
"I don't want to wear it," I said, "It might catch in the machine." It came out softer than I meant. His gaze didn't waver, like he could see straight through the excuse.
"Then don't get too close to the machine," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.
It wasn't quite a joke, but it wasn't entirely serious either.
"It's not worth the risk," I murmured.
I tucked the bracelet into my apron pocket and moved to the counter, trying to focus on the register instead of the way my chest still felt a little tight.
The boy in front of me had that easy, sun-warmed look of someone who belonged here. Skin tanned, hair a little wind-tousled. He leaned an elbow on the counter.
"Don't think I've seen you around before," he said.
"Yeah, I just moved here," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "First week."
"So, what's your order?" I asked, tapping the counter.
He ordered an iced latte, and I nodded, reaching for the cup. I wrote his order carefully, maybe too carefully, because I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. It made my hands feel clumsy, like I might spill the ice before it even hit the cup.
I'd never really been the kind of girl people stared at, not in that way. So I didn't know if I should ignore it, or look up and meet his gaze. I chose neither—just kept working, pretending I didn't notice it.
When I slid the drink toward him, he didn't take it right away.
"I'm hosting a party tonight. Down by the beach." His tone was casual. "You should come."
I hesitated, my fingers still resting on the counter. "I don't know. My shift doesn't end until nine."
He didn't even blink. "Then I'll wait for you."
The way he said it was steady, and certain. Kinda made my stomach tighten. I looked down, suddenly aware of the hum of the fridge, the hiss of the espresso machine, the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. No one had ever said something like that to me before.
And it suddenly hit me—why was this suddenly happening? Boys noticing me. Talking to me like this. Did I change somehow? Was it just this summer, or had I been someone else all along and never noticed?
Before I could get lost in those thoughts, the storage room door creaked open and Steven stepped out, carrying a box of coffee filters. He caught my distracted expression and smirked.
"You look like you're somewhere else," he said, his voice low and steady. "Focus, Lia. We've got a full shift ahead."
I blinked, caught off guard. "What? No, I'm just—"
He cut me off with a look that said he wasn't buying it. "Save it. The customers won't wait for you to get your head in the game."
I forced a small smile, pushing the fluttering thoughts aside. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."
I took a deep breath, letting the noise of the café pull me back into the moment. The clatter of cups, the chatter of customers, it all grounded me.
Steven gave me a quick nod before turning back to the espresso machine, already moving with that easy confidence that made me feel both out of place and somehow lucky to be here.
I squared my shoulders and wiped my hands on my apron. Focus. One task at a time. You could handle this.
But still, a small part of me kept wondering—was this summer really going to be different? Was this the start of something I hadn't dared to hope for before?
The rest of the shift blurred by as orders came and went, the espresso machine steamed and hissed, and I kept my head down, trying to stay in the moment. When the clock finally hit the end of my shift, I felt a rush of relief mixed with excitement. I clocked out, grabbed my things, and headed home, eager to get ready for the party. Even though I wasn't usually the party type, someone had invited me, so I figured I should go, right?
I stood in front of my closet, staring like the right outfit might magically appear if I waited long enough. Which was ridiculous, because nothing I owned was party material. Most of it looked like I'd wandered out of a cupcake shop. Still, I grabbed my phone and called Taylor, just to see if she wanted to come.
She picked up on the first ring. "Can't. Family dinner," she said.
I was about to say okay and hang up when she stopped me. "Wait, what are you wearing?"
I hesitated. "I don't know yet."
She groaned. "Please tell me you're not putting on one of your… Amelia dresses."
"What's an Amelia dress?" I asked, though I already had a sinking feeling.
"You know. Cute, but too cute. Like something you'd wear to a baby shower for kittens."
I glanced at my dresser pastel prints everywhere. She wasn't wrong.
"Wear the one I gave you last year. The red one."
I could picture it instantly, hanging in the back of my closet. The one I'd been saving for something special. Something that felt bigger than tonight.
"Fine," I said.
"Good girl." She hung up before I could change my mind.
I pulled the dress from the hanger and held it up for a moment. The red was softer than I remembered, almost like it wasn't meant to stand out too much.
I slipped it on, feeling the fabric settle easily around me. It wasn't flashy, but it felt… different.
Then I noticed it was a little too short. Way shorter than what I was used to wearing. Suddenly the memory hit me—the way I'd fallen flat on my face at that dance, how everyone had stared. The shame still lingered like a bruise.
I hoped this night wouldn't end the same way.