Ava Thompson had a sixth sense for chaos. Some people saw it as bad luck; she saw it as life's constant test of endurance. And today was a perfect example.
After barely surviving her first lecture of the day, she sprinted across campus to her part-time job at the small café tucked behind the library. Her books bounced against her side while she carried the tray of coffee cups now neatly washed and stacked, her hair pulled into a messy bun that had long since escaped its elastic band.
"Late again?" the café manager, Mrs. Daniels, called with a sigh.
Ava slid behind the counter with a grin that didn't quite reach her tired eyes. "Fashionably late, as always," she said. "But I promise, I can handle the orders."
"Just… try not to spill coffee on anyone this time," Mrs. Daniels muttered, shaking her head.
Ava rolled her eyes dramatically, but internally she was already thinking about her next shift—tutoring part-time, helping at the orphanage, and somehow surviving a campus full of distractions. College life wasn't easy, especially when you were expected to juggle everything on your own.
The café bell jingled, and in walked a group of students, laughing and chattering, completely oblivious to the world around them. Ava moved efficiently, taking orders, serving drinks, and dodging a spilled muffin that rolled off a table.
Then, she saw him.
Recee.
Of course, he would choose today to walk into the café. Dressed casually but impeccably, looking effortlessly out of place in the hustle of coffee orders and spilled sugar packets, he scanned the room, eyes landing on her immediately.
Ava froze, nearly dropping the tray she was carrying. His gaze was calm, unflinching, and sharp — the same unreadable look from the hallway yesterday.
"Uh… hi," she managed, waving awkwardly with her free hand while balancing a tray full of drinks.
He nodded faintly. "Hello, Ava," he said smoothly. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Yeah, well, welcome to my world," Ava replied, trying to sound casual while her heart thumped a little faster than usual. "Careful—you might get splashed with coffee."
He smirked faintly. "I think I can survive it."
As she turned to grab the next order, she caught sight of the kids from the orphanage, who were always around the café after school, waving at her from the corner. Her heart warmed; they were the reason she pushed herself so hard. They didn't have much, and she wanted to make sure they felt a little normal, a little happy, even if she had to sacrifice her own comfort.
Recee noticed the small smile she gave them, the way her eyes softened just for a moment, and something inside him stirred. Most people he knew wouldn't even glance their way. Ava's concern was quiet, unassuming, but genuine. He found it… intriguing.
"Do you always work so many jobs?" he asked suddenly, as if reading her thoughts.
Ava glanced at him over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"
You barely have time to breathe. You must be exhausted."
Ava laughed, a short, sarcastic sound. "Exhausted? Maybe. But I'm not dead yet." She paused, giving him a teasing glance. "And besides, someone has to pay for textbooks, food, and rent. The world doesn't hand out scholarships for surviving life with style."
Recee raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Style, huh?"
Ava rolled her eyes, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Yeah, style. And coffee spills. Lots of them."
He didn't laugh out loud, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. He appreciated her humor — bold, self-deprecating, but somehow magnetic. Most people hid behind polite smiles or fake jokes; Ava's laughter was raw and unapologetic.
The café bell jingled again, and a group of rowdy students barged in, making a mess and demanding iced drinks. Ava groaned under her breath but didn't let it show. She had handled chaos all her life; this was just… ordinary.
Recee stepped slightly closer, observing her efficiently managing the chaos. He didn't intervene — not yet — but he noticed the way her fingers flew over the espresso machine, the way her eyes darted between the orders and the rowdy group without missing a beat.
"Seriously," he murmured under his breath, almost to himself, "how does she do it?"
Ava caught the muttered comment. "Excuse me?"
He blinked, realizing she had heard him. "Nothing," he said quickly, offering her a faint smile. "You're… impressive."
She smirked, a little proud but mostly amused. "Impressive, huh? Careful, hero, flattery won't get you a free coffee."
He chuckled quietly, a low sound that seemed out of place in the noisy café. "Not looking for a free coffee. Just… observing."
Ava shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Of course. Observing the chaos, right?"
The rest of the shift passed in a blur. Ava balanced orders, soothed complaints, and threw in sarcastic comments that had Recee chuckling quietly from the side. Every now and then, their eyes met, and each glance carried a spark of curiosity, tension, and the faintest hint of attraction.
By the time the shift ended, Ava was exhausted but exhilarated. She gathered her things, prepared to sprint to her next tutoring session, and felt a tap on her shoulder.
Turning around, she found Recee standing there, calm, composed, and frustratingly unreadable.
"I… don't want to slow you down," he said. "But there's a new student group meeting nearby. I thought you might want to join—they're looking for volunteers for community projects."
Ava raised an eyebrow. "You think I need volunteering tips?"
He shook his head, expression still calm. "Not tips. Just… thought it might interest you."
Ava studied him for a long moment, trying to gauge whether he was mocking her or genuinely suggesting it. Deciding to trust the small kindness in his tone, she shrugged. "Maybe. Could be fun."
His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, "Good. I'll see you there, then."
She rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but inwardly felt something unfamiliar—a flutter of anticipation. "See you," she muttered, before rushing off to her next job, books bouncing against her hip.
As she disappeared into the bustling campus crowd, Recee watched her go, silently noting every movement, every gesture, every spark of her fiery personality. He didn't intervene in her chaos; he didn't need to. Watching her navigate life on her own was… compelling.
Ava Thompson was trouble. Bold, messy, fearless trouble. And for some reason he couldn't explain, he wanted to be there for all of it.