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The "Perked Up" cafe was on a corner that really caught the brunt of the afternoon wind. As I leaned against the heavy oak door, it creaked under my weight. Once inside, the air hit me like a wall, rich roasted beans, a hint of burnt sugar, and the hiss of the espresso machine mixing together. It was a sensory overload that matched the chaos bubbling in my chest.
I paused for a moment, blinking against the warmth, feeling like a bright neon sign in a room full of muted colors. My outfit was a mess and my hair looked like I'd just rolled out of a freaking tornado.
I spotted Harry in a corner booth, away from the bustling sea of caffeine-deprived patrons. He looked exactly like someone whose life was in order: a soft cream sweater that made his skin look like toasted almonds, a book resting on the table, and a calm presence that made me either want to cry or leap into his arms to see if I could disrupt that perfection.
