The third time Ari came to the café, Eliza told herself it was a coincidence. People returned for good coffee all the time. Still, she couldn't ignore the flutter in her stomach when the door chimed and Ari's tall frame stepped inside.
"You're becoming a regular," Eliza said as Ari approached the counter, trying to keep her tone light.
"Maybe I like the coffee," Ari replied smoothly. Their gaze lingered on her for a beat too long. "Or maybe I like the barista."
Heat rushed to Eliza's cheeks before she could stop it. Ari didn't smirk the way most people might after making such a bold comment. Instead, her expression was steady, almost unreadable, as if she wasn't teasing at all.
"Well," Eliza said, forcing herself to move, "I hope you're not expecting free drinks just because you flirt."
"Flirt?" Ari's lips curved slightly, though her eyes never lost that intensity. "Is that what I'm doing?"
She busied herself with the espresso machine, heart thudding. Ari had a way of making her feel exposed, like every wall she usually hid behind was suddenly see-through.
When she slid today's creation a caramel macchiato across the counter, Ari didn't take it immediately. Their hand hovered, fingers brushing hers again, and this time Eliza didn't pull back. The contact was small, accidental by design, but it left her skin tingling long after Ari finally lifted the cup.
The café wasn't crowded, so Ari lingered at the counter instead of retreating to their usual corner. "Do you ever sit and drink coffee," she asked, "instead of serving it?"
"Not while I'm on shift."
"And when you're not?"
Eliza hesitated, the question catching her off guard. "Sometimes," she admitted.
Ari leaned closer, lowering their voice. "Maybe one day, you'll sit with me."
The words were simple, but they sank into her, pulling at something deeper than curiosity. For a moment, all she could do was nod.
She finally stepped back, sipping their drink, but their gaze trailed over her as though memorizing every detail. Eliza tried to shake it off, diving into chores, but her skin burned with awareness.
By the time her shift ended, Ari was still there, waiting. Eliza slipped off her apron, tucking it beneath the counter. She could have left through the back door, the way she usually did. But her feet betrayed her, carrying her toward the table where Ari sat.
"Walking home?" Ari asked, voice soft, as though the question mattered more than it should.
"Yes."
"I'll walk with you."
It wasn't really a request. It was an offer she somehow couldn't refuse. Outside, the evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine from the woods beyond town. The streets were quiet, lined with glowing porch lights and shuttered shops. Her footsteps echoed softly against the pavement.
For a while, neither of them spoke. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable it pulsed with something unspoken, an electricity that made Eliza hyperaware of the space between them. Every brush of their shoulders, every glance Ari cast her way, felt like a secret touch.
"Willowridge seems small," Ari finally said.
"It is," Eliza replied. "Too small, sometimes."
Ari hummed thoughtfully. "And yet, you stay."
She gave a small shrug. "It's home. At least for now."
She stopped at the corner where Eliza's street began. The lamplight washed Ari's face in gold, softening their sharp edges. For a heartbeat, Eliza thought she might step closer, close the gap between them. She wanted her to.
Instead, Ari said softly, "Goodnight, Eliza."
And just like that, she turned and walked away, leaving her rooted in place, her pulse hammering, her body humming with a need she hadn't felt in years.
As she lay in bed later that night, she touched her fingertips to the spot where Ari's hand had brushed hers earlier. The warmth still lingered. And for the first time in a long time, Eliza realized she wanted more.