Tuesday morning arrived with the usual chaos at The Daily Grind.
Lia Henderson had perfected the art of surviving the morning rush: three lattes balanced in one hand, a pastry tray in the other, dodging caffeinated customers with the reflexes of a ninja who had just downed three shots of espresso.
And yet, she had no idea how much harder her life would get today—because of one man.
Ethan Cruz.
He was already there, as if the universe had personally delivered him to her doorstep. Sitting in his usual corner, laptop open, hair perfectly messy, grin dangerously charming.
"…You're here again," Lia muttered, walking behind the counter, trying to keep her tone casual.
"Of course," he said, looking up with a smile that made her heart skip an inconvenient beat. "…I figured I'd watch the master at work."
"…Master?" Lia asked, raising an eyebrow. "…I'm not a master. I'm surviving."
"Survival is an art," he said, leaning back, hands behind his head. "…And watching you survive is… inspiring."
She groaned, grabbing a rag. "…You're ridiculous."
"And yet," he added softly, "…you secretly enjoy my ridiculousness."
"…I do not," she said, but her cheeks warmed anyway.
The morning passed in a blur of coffee, chaos, and Ethan's relentless smirks.
A man in a suit asked her to make a "surprise latte." Lia blinked. "…What's a surprise latte?"
"Just make it… surprise me," he said, disappearing before she could respond.
She sighed, shook her head, and made a cappuccino with a suspiciously perfect foam heart—partly because she actually wanted it to be perfect, partly because she couldn't stop thinking about Ethan.
"…Is he still here?" she muttered to herself.
"…Always," Ethan said from across the café, reading her thoughts like a book.
Later, chaos struck.
A child ran through the café, squealing, and collided with Lia's leg. Lattes went flying—again.
"…Not again!" Lia cried, grabbing napkins and towels like a warrior in a caffeine-fueled battle.
Ethan sprang up instantly, helping her clean up the mess, though his presence somehow made everything worse. Somehow, his casual, perfect movements made her heart race even as she cursed him silently.
"You okay?" he asked, eyes soft, still grinning.
"Yes," she said firmly, though her voice wobbled. "…Mostly. My dignity, once again, has been tested."
He laughed. "…It's only coffee," he said, leaning closer. "…And only spilled because of you."
"…Excuse me?" she snapped. "…I did not spill it. That child did. And you—"
"Me?" he asked innocently. "…I was just here for moral support."
"…Right," she muttered, rolling her eyes.
By the afternoon, the café had quieted. Lia was wiping down tables, thinking about how her life had somehow become a rom-com with one extremely infuriating co-star.
Ethan approached with a cup in his hand. "…I got you a latte," he said. "…Extra shot. You deserve it after today."
"…You didn't have to," she said, taking it. "…But thanks."
"Of course I did," he said softly. "…I like seeing you smile."
Her cheeks flamed. "…Stop saying that," she muttered.
"Never," he replied with a grin.
Later, Mia popped up behind the counter. "So… how's it going with Mr. Not-A-Date?"
"…It's going," Lia said carefully, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Going?!" Mia exclaimed. "…Lia, you're practically glowing. And he's… flirting. Admit it."
"…I am not…" Lia started, then caught herself mid-denial. "…Maybe a little. But only slightly."
Mia grinned. "See! This is going to be fun."
"…Fun?" Lia muttered. "…You mean chaotic."
By the end of her shift, Lia was exhausted. Coffee had been spilled, pastries had been dropped, and her emotions were tangled in ways she didn't quite understand.
Ethan waited outside as she locked up the café. "…Leaving already?" he asked, hands in his pockets.
"…Yes," she said firmly. "…Before something else happens."
"Or before you admit that you like me," he teased.
"…I do not like you!" she snapped, though her voice was weaker than intended.
He grinned. "…Sure, sure. Not liking me at all. Got it."
And yet, as she walked home, her thoughts betrayed her.
Why does he get under my skin so easily? she wondered. Why do I think about him even when I'm not at the café?
Little did she know… the chaos had only just begun.