The fourth time he walked into the café, Ellie was already watching him from behind the espresso machine. Not on purpose at least, that's what she told herself. He just had this quiet rhythm, like he didn't need to try too hard to exist. No dramatic entrance, no flashy smile. Just… steady. Calm. A little unreadable.
He wore the same navy hoodie, sleeves slightly pushed up, hands in his pockets. His hair was a little messy, intentional or not, she wasn't sure but it somehow made him look like he'd just walked out of a paperback romance.
She turned away quickly, pretending to inspect the croissant tray, heart inexplicably hammering. She didn't even know his name, but there was something about his vibe—quietly ironic, eyes always scanning like he was writing mental notes about everyone around him.
He stepped into line, scrolling through his phone.
Okay, no big deal, she told herself. Just another customer. No need to act like you're starring in a Netflix rom-com.
Then she picked up the tray.
Twelve croissants. Perfectly golden. Balanced on a metal tray that had seen better days.
She stepped out from behind the counter… and tripped.
Time slowed. The tray tilted. Croissants soared through the air like buttery comets. One smacked the tile floor with a tragic thud. Another bounced off a chair and landed, dramatically, at the feet of Mr. Mysterious.
She froze.
He looked up from his phone, blinked once, then burst out laughing.
Not a cruel laugh. Not even one of those awkward, secondhand embarrassment ones. A real, surprised, totally unfiltered laugh.
"Oh no," Ellie muttered, face burning. "I committed croissant homicide."
He knelt down and picked up one of the surviving pastries. "Tragic loss," he said with mock seriousness, inspecting it. "But at least they died warm."
Ellie stared at him.
He smiled wide this time. "You okay?"
"Only emotionally scarred."
He chuckled and stood up, holding out the least-squished croissant like a peace offering. "I think this one made it. Barely."
"Do… do you want a replacement coffee?" Ellie asked, trying to recover even a shred of dignity.
"Actually," he said, brushing imaginary crumbs from his sleeve, "I'm more of a 'black coffee and deep thoughts' kind of guy."
Ellie blinked.
That line. It should've been cheesy. It probably was. But coming from him, it sounded almost... endearing?
She nodded slowly, masking her swoon. "Right. One cup of existential crisis, coming up."
He gave her a crooked grin and stepped aside to let the next customer order, but not before he added, "Don't worry. Happens to the best of us."
Ellie hurried back behind the counter, equal parts mortified and elated.
And as soon as the rush died down, she pulled out her phone, fingers already flying across the screen.