The café had long since emptied, leaving only the hum of the espresso machine and the faint clinking of cups Eliza was washing behind the counter. The air smelled of roasted beans and vanilla syrup, sweet but mellow, as if even the scents had softened with the lateness of the hour.
Ari leaned back in her chair, watching her move with the unhurried grace of someone who belonged in this space. Their hand tapped idly against the wooden table, but their mind was far from idle. Every detail about Eliza the curl of her hair falling forward, the way her sleeves were always rolled to the elbow, the small crease between her brows when she was focused was carving itself deeper into Ari's memory.
"You don't have to wait for me, you know," Eliza said without looking up, her voice carrying easily across the quiet room. "I can lock up myself."
Ari tilted their head, smirking faintly. "And miss the best part of the night? Not a chance."
That made her laugh a quick, surprised sound that made Ari's chest tighten. She shook her head, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was a silence that hummed with something unsaid, a current of possibility just beneath the surface. Ari rose finally, crossing the room with slow, deliberate steps. When they stopped at the counter, Eliza glanced up, her hands pausing mid-motion.
"You look tired," Ari said softly.
Eliza raised a brow. "That's your big observation?"
Ari smiled but didn't retreat. Instead, she reached forward, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek with a touch so light it felt more like a question than an action. Eliza stilled, her breath catching at the unexpected closeness.
"Maybe I just wanted an excuse," Ari admitted, her voice dropping lower, almost rough.
The moment stretched. Eliza's gaze flicked to her lips and back again, as though caught between daring and restraint. Her heart thudded in her chest, loud enough that she swore Ari must hear it.
"You're impossible," she murmured, though there was no bite in it.
"Maybe." Ari's hand lingered just a second longer before they drew it back, respecting the thin line that still stood between them. But in the air between them, something had shifted. The room seemed smaller, the quiet louder, every second charged with awareness neither could ignore.
Eliza forced herself to break eye contact, focusing again on stacking cups. "We should… lock up. It's late."
Ari leaned against the counter, unbothered. "Then let me walk you home."
The suggestion came so casually, but it landed with weight. Eliza hesitated, then gave the smallest nod. She told herself it was practicality it was dark, after all. But she knew the truth: some part of her wanted the night to stretch a little longer, to see where this fragile, magnetic pull might lead.
As she grabbed her coat, Ari held the door open for her. The crisp night air rushed in, cool and bracing, but not enough to dim the warmth that lingered between them.
And as they stepped out together, Eliza realized that whatever boundary she thought she had drawn had already blurred.