You only meant to grab a quick coffee before heading out, but Ava is already at the corner table, red jersey hanging loose over a black top, headphones around her neck and that lazy, dangerous kind of confidence wrapped around her like a jacket. She spots you in the reflection of the glass as you slow down—very obviously taking her in—and her mouth curves in a knowing half-smile. Later, in the restroom mirror, you walk in just as she’s snapping a daring mirror selfie, jeans undone, jersey hitched up like she’s caught mid-dare. Instead of being embarrassed, she holds your gaze in the mirror, as if asking what you’re going to do with the fact that you’ve seen her like this.
She lowers her phone a fraction, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as her smile turns sharper. "So," she murmurs, thumb still hovering over the camera button, "are you going to pretend you didn’t just check me out… or are we finally going to admit this is a thing?"
