The Way You Look at Me
The late afternoon sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden warmth over the café. The place smelled faintly of vanilla and fresh pastries, and the chatter of customers blended with the soft hum of romantic jazz playing in the background.
Isabella sat at the corner table, absently stirring her coffee, her thoughts far from the bustling room around her. She still couldn't shake the memory of last night—how Daniel had looked at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention. There had been something in his eyes… something raw, almost vulnerable.
The soft sound of footsteps drew her out of her thoughts. She looked up, and there he was—Daniel—walking towards her with that easy, confident stride. His dark shirt clung perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the veins running down his forearms. He smiled, and just like that, her heartbeat stumbled.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, sliding into the seat opposite her. "The traffic was insane."
Isabella waved a hand, feigning nonchalance even though his presence already had her pulse racing. "It's fine. I just got here."
A comfortable silence settled for a moment. Daniel's gaze lingered on her, and she could feel the weight of it. It wasn't just casual attention—he was memorising her. The curve of her lips, the way her hair fell slightly over her face, the tiny wrinkle between her brows when she thought too much.
"You look…" he began, then stopped as if the right word escaped him. His lips tilted into a smirk. "…different today. In a good way."
Her cheeks warmed, and she hated that he could still do that to her. "Different?" she teased. "What, did I grow a second head overnight?"
Daniel chuckled, leaning forward on his elbows. "No. It's just—your eyes. They're… brighter."
Isabella tried to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "You've been paying a lot of attention to my eyes lately."
"Maybe," he said, voice low, "I just like what I see."
Her heart skipped again. She quickly took a sip of her coffee to hide the way her breath caught, but it was useless. He could see through her—he always could.
The conversation flowed easily, the way it always did between them. But beneath the laughter and shared stories, something unspoken hung between them. Every accidental brush of fingers when they reached for the same sugar packet felt like an electric current. Every glance seemed to last a heartbeat too long.
After an hour, Daniel suggested they take a walk. The evening air was cooler now, and the streets were painted with the warm glow of streetlights. Isabella walked beside him, her arm occasionally brushing his. Each time it happened, she felt the same nervous flutter in her stomach.
They reached the small park near her apartment, and Daniel stopped near the fountain. The sound of trickling water filled the silence. He looked at her, his expression softer now, almost hesitant.
"Bella…" His voice was quiet, careful.
She turned to face him, the dim light catching in his eyes. "What is it?"
For a long moment, he just studied her face, as though searching for something. Then he stepped closer, close enough that she could feel his warmth in the cool night air.
"You have no idea," he said slowly, "how hard it's been… not telling you how I feel."
Isabella's breath caught. "Daniel…"
"I'm serious," he interrupted gently. "From the first time we talked, you've been in my head. You make me want to be… better. And I can't keep pretending it's nothing."
The world seemed to narrow until there was only the two of them. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, could feel the heat radiating off him.
And then—he reached for her hand. His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and steady, grounding her even as her mind spun.
"You don't have to say anything now," he continued. "I just needed you to know."
Isabella searched his eyes, looking for any sign that this was just a fleeting whim. But all she found was sincerity… and something deeper that scared and thrilled her all at once.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. "I… think I've been waiting for you to say that."
His expression softened in relief. He didn't move closer, didn't rush it—but his thumb brushed over her knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion that sent shivers down her spine.
The moment lingered, delicate yet electric. Around them, the city moved on—cars passed, laughter echoed from somewhere down the street—but to Isabella, it felt like time had stopped.
And just when she thought he might lean in, when the space between them became almost unbearable—he stepped back.
"Walk you home?" he asked softly, like nothing monumental had just happened.
She nodded, a smile still tugging at her lips. "Yeah… I'd like that."
As they walked away from the fountain, Isabella realised something—this wasn't just a crush, and it wasn't just some fleeting attraction. This was the start of something real.
Something worth holding onto.