Chapter 2: A Coffee and a Curveball
"So," Ayla began, stirring her cappuccino absentmindedly. "What's your story, Caden? Are you always this charming, or is this just a rain-special offer?"
Caden rested his chin on his hand, giving her an exaggeratedly thoughtful look. "Hmm, I'd say it's a limited-time thing. Catch me on a sunny day, and I'm just a regular guy."
Ayla gave him a sly grin. "So, what—do you lose all your charisma when the rain stops?"
"Basically," he admitted, straight-faced. "Without dramatic weather, I turn into a complete bore. No jokes, no charm, just… taxes and grocery lists."
Ayla laughed, loud enough that the couple at the next table glanced over. "Good to know. I'll only call you on rainy days, then."
Caden raised an eyebrow. "Wait—call me? Does that mean I've already earned your number?"
Ayla froze, caught in her own playful trap. "Oh, uh… I—"
"I'm just messing with you." Caden's grin widened, and Ayla swore he was enjoying this far too much.
She rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool even as her cheeks warmed. "You're a menace."
"And yet, here you are, sitting with me," Caden shot back, leaning back in his chair with the air of someone very pleased with himself.
Ayla shook her head, fighting back a smile. He had this easy, confident way about him, the kind that could be annoying if it wasn't also… kind of endearing. The rain still drummed softly on the windows, blurring the city outside.
"So," she asked, "what do you actually do? Or is charming strangers under umbrellas your full-time gig?"
Caden chuckled. "Sadly, no. I'm an architect. Boring, right?"
Ayla tilted her head. "Not really. I mean, you do look like the kind of guy who sketches buildings in his sleep."
"Wow." Caden blinked, mock-offended. "That's oddly specific. Is this based on personal experience?"
"Maybe." Ayla gave a playful shrug. "Or maybe I've just seen too many rom-coms."
"Guilty as charged," Caden said, raising an imaginary hand in surrender. "But if we're being honest, I don't really sleep much these days. Too busy with projects. And, you know, standing around in storms rescuing people."
"Oh, sure. It must be exhausting."
"You have no idea," he said, dramatically rubbing his temples.
Ayla laughed again, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. She hadn't expected anything more than a wet walk home tonight, yet here she was, trading jokes with a stranger who somehow made everything feel… easy.
"So what about you?" Caden asked, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his coffee cup. "What's Ayla's big dream?"
Ayla hesitated for a second. "Honestly? I'm still trying to figure that out."
He gave her an encouraging look, not pressing her but waiting quietly.
"I work at a bookstore right now," she continued. "It's fine, I guess. But I always thought I'd be… somewhere else by now, you know?"
Caden nodded, like he understood more than she expected. "Somewhere bigger?"
"Not even that." Ayla stirred her coffee again, as if the swirling foam held answers. "Just… somewhere that feels more me."
There was a pause, the kind that felt comfortable but full of unspoken thoughts.
"Hey," Caden said, his tone light but sincere. "At least you're figuring it out. Most people never even get that far."
"True," Ayla admitted. "But in the meantime, I've got a front-row seat to people's book obsessions. That counts for something, right?"
Caden gave a thoughtful nod. "Definitely. Books are sacred. People who work with books? Basically modern-day heroes."
Ayla chuckled. "Glad someone finally gets it."
They fell into an easy silence, watching the rain trickle down the window. The city outside felt distant and blurry, as if this little café existed in its own cozy universe.
"So, Ayla," Caden said, a glint of mischief returning to his eyes, "what's the most ridiculous book request you've ever gotten?"
Ayla thought for a second, then grinned. "Oh, that's easy. Someone once asked if we had War and Peace—abridged. You know, a short version of the 1,200-page classic."
Caden burst out laughing, nearly choking on his coffee. "That's amazing. Did you tell them Tolstoy would haunt them for even asking?"
"I was tempted." Ayla giggled. "But instead, I said, 'We can special-order it… if you're not in a hurry.'"
Caden shook his head, still grinning. "You're dangerous."
"So I've been told." Ayla took another sip of her cappuccino, trying to ignore how nice it felt to make someone laugh like that.
They lingered a while longer, trading stories and bad jokes, until the rain outside began to ease into a soft drizzle.
"Looks like the rain's letting up," Caden said, glancing out the window.
Ayla nodded, feeling an odd twinge of disappointment. She wasn't ready for this to end—not just yet.
"So," Caden said slowly, as if testing the waters. "This was fun. Maybe… we could do it again sometime?"
Ayla raised an eyebrow. "What—wait for a rainstorm and meet under an umbrella?"
"Exactly." Caden grinned. "Or, you know, we could skip the rain and just grab dinner next time."
Ayla pretended to think it over. "Hmm… I don't know. That sounds suspiciously like a normal way to hang out."
"Fair point." Caden chuckled. "But hey, I'm willing to risk it if you are."
Ayla smiled. "Okay. Dinner sounds good."
Caden's grin widened, as if he'd just won the lottery. "Great. I'll bring an umbrella, just in case."
They exchanged numbers, and just like that, the moment was sealed—simple, easy, and unexpectedly perfect.
As they stepped outside, Ayla glanced up at the sky. The rain had stopped, leaving behind only the soft hum of the city at night.
"Looks like you'll have to charm me without the weather," Ayla teased.
"Challenge accepted," Caden said, holding the door open for her with a wink.
And just like that, the evening melted into the night, with the promise of something new waiting just beyond the next drizzle.