The coffe shop buzze
The coffee shop buzzed with the morning rush, the air thick with the scent of roasted beans and cinnamon. People hurried in and out, phones pressed to their ears, laptops glowing on wooden tables. For most, it was just another Monday. For Amara Daniels, it was the first page of a new chapter.
She pushed the door open with her hip, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear, and tried not to look as frazzled as she felt.
"Yes, Maya, I know I'll be fine," she whispered into the receiver. "But it's my first day, and you know me. If there's one way to ruin a new job, I'll find it."
Her younger sister chuckled on the other end. "You're overthinking again. You always do this. Just breathe. Smile. You'll charm them all without even trying."
Amara rolled her eyes, juggling her bag, phone, and wallet as she joined the line. "I don't need to charm anyone. I just need to not get fired before lunch."
"Same thing," Maya teased. "Anyway, I have to run. Just… remember to eat something. And don't"
Amara hung up before she could finish the sentence, muttering, "forget your coffee. Got it."
She placed her order an oat milk latte, extra shot, because nerves required caffeine and waited by the counter. Her reflection in the glass door caught her eye: neat braids tied back, blouse tucked into tailored trousers, and a blazer slung over her arm. She looked composed, professional. Nothing like the storm brewing in her chest.
When her name was called, she grabbed the cup, murmured a quick thanks, and turned toward the exit.
And that's when it happened.
A body moved into her path tall, broad shouldered, with a suddenness that made her stumble. Her cup jerked upward, and before she could stop it, hot coffee splattered across her blouse, dripping onto the floor in dark streaks.
Her gasp echoed through the shop. "Oh no"
"Damn, I'm so sorry," a voice said, deep and calm despite the chaos. The man crouched quickly, grabbing a handful of napkins from a nearby table. "Here, let me"
"No, it's fine, really" Amara bent to blot the stain, but when he extended a neatly folded handkerchief, she froze.
He wasn't just anyone. He was… striking. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, his jaw sharp enough to make her breath catch. His eyes, gray like storm clouds before rain, locked on hers with an intensity that made her forget the coffee soaking into her blouse.
"Please," he said softly, holding out the handkerchief. "At least let me make it less of a disaster."
Her pride bristled. She hated looking helpless, especially in front of strangers. But her fingers brushed his as she took the cloth, and the jolt that shot through her was undeniable.
"Thank you," she murmured, dabbing at her shirt.
He offered a faint smile, almost apologetic. "I should've been paying more attention. My fault entirely."
Amara shook her head, forcing composure. "No harm done. Just… coffee casualties."
His lips curved at that, the smallest twitch of amusement. "Still, I owe you one. Let me buy you another?.
Her instinct was to refuse. She didn't have time for delays, and certainly not for tall, infuriatingly handsome strangers. But something in his tone a mix of courtesy and sincerity made her hesitate.
She glanced at her blouse, sighed, then nodded. "Fine. But only because I really need caffeine to survive this morning."
Minutes later, they sat at a corner table with two fresh cups between them. Amara kept her posture straight, reminding herself this was not a date. Just a stranger's apology. Nothing more.
"I'm Ethan," he said after a pause, extending his hand across the table.
She shook it carefully, his grip warm and firm. "Amara."
"Beautiful name," he said easily.
She arched a brow, not sure if he was being polite or flirtatious. "Thanks."
"So, first day?" he asked, gesturing to her blazer and the carefully organized folder peeking from her bag.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "What makes you say that?"
"The nerves," he said simply, sipping his coffee. "I can see them."
She let out a surprised laugh. "That obvious, huh?"
"Only to someone who knows the look." His gaze drifted briefly, as if remembering something. "Don't worry. First days aren't as terrifying as they seem."
She tilted her head. "You sound like you've had a few of your own."
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he offered a faint, almost wistful smile. "Something like that."
Amara studied him for a moment, curious. There was a guardedness about him, like a man carrying stories he wasn't ready to tell. She wanted to ask, but her phone buzzed, pulling her back to reality.
She glanced at the screen her new manager's name flashing. Panic tightened in her chest.
"I have to go," she said quickly, standing. "Thank you for the coffee, Ethan. And the handkerchief."
"Keep it," he said before she could hand it back.
She hesitated, then slipped it into her bag.
As she hurried out, she felt his eyes follow her, a strange warmth lingering long after she stepped into the rush of the city.
Amara shook her head. It was nothing. Just a clumsy accident, a stranger's kindness.
And yet somewhere deep down she knew it wasn't nothing.
Not at all.