The café was unusually crowded that afternoon, the rain driving half the town inside. Elena found a small table by the window, tucked her notebook onto her lap, and tried to focus on the steam rising from her tea. The clatter of cups, the low hum of conversation, and the smell of cinnamon should have been comforting—but her mind kept circling back to the stranger she had nearly knocked over at the door.
What was his name?
Why did his smile feel like something she should remember?
She shook her head and opened her notebook, scribbling down lines for the essay she needed to finish. But words refused to cooperate, dancing stubbornly away from the page. Her fingers drummed against the table, betraying her distraction.
"Mind if I sit here?"
Her head snapped up. There he was—hazel eyes, damp hair, and that same calm expression. Liam Carter. Though she didn't know his name yet, she felt it fit him already.
"This seat's taken?" he added, nodding toward the empty chair across from her.
Elena blinked, caught between surprise and annoyance. "There are other tables."
He grinned. "Not with a window view."
She considered refusing, but something in his easy confidence made it difficult. With a reluctant sigh, she gestured to the chair. "Fine. But don't spill your coffee this time."
He chuckled and slid into the seat, resting his cup on the table. "You're not going to let that go, are you?"
"Not anytime soon." She tried to sound stern, but there was a playful edge to her voice she couldn't hide.
They sat in silence for a moment, watching raindrops race each other down the glass. Elena tried to focus on her notebook, but she could feel his gaze flicker toward her now and then. Finally, he broke the silence.
"You're a student?" he asked, nodding at her scribbled pages.
"Yes," she replied curtly. "English major."
"Figures. You've got that look."
She raised an eyebrow. "What look?"
"The look of someone who spends more time with books than people."
Elena frowned, unsure if she should be offended. But the smirk on his face softened the words, turning them into something closer to admiration.
"And what about you?" she challenged. "What's your look?"
He leaned back, thoughtful. "I'd say… someone still figuring it out."
For the first time, his teasing tone dropped, and she caught a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes—a quiet restlessness, as though he carried questions without answers.
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, jaw tightening slightly. "I should go."
Without waiting for her reply, he stood, finishing the last of his coffee. Then, with that same half-smile as before, he added, "See you around, English major."
Elena watched him leave, her pen frozen above the page. She should have been relieved that the interruption was gone. Instead, she found herself staring at the door long after it closed behind him.