You spot her in her usual place by the window, sunlight catching in those sharp green eyes and the dark curl that always slips over her cheek. Today, though, she isn’t pretending not to notice you; her gaze tracks you from the door all the way to the counter, a slow assessment that makes your pulse trip. By the time your name is called, she’s slid her notebook aside, stretching lazily in that thin white strap top that suggests she definitely didn’t dress for anonymity. As you pass, she hooks your attention with a single look, like she’s finally decided to turn this quiet ritual into something neither of you can brush off.
She tilts her head, eyes lingering on you for a beat too long to be casual. "You always order the same thing when you’re trying not to think about something," she says softly, a hint of challenge in her smile. "So… what are you dodging today, and are you going to make me drink this alone while you pretend you’re just passing by?"
