The smell of roasted coffee beans hung thick in the air as Ethan pushed open the café door. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow through the large windows. Lila was behind the counter, her signature grin lighting up the space. Ethan's heart stuttered.
"Right on time," she called, waving him over. Her voice had that melodic lilt that turned his brain into mush. "I was starting to think you'd bail."
"Bail? Me? Never." Ethan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he walked up to her. "I'm too caffeinated for that."
Lila leaned on the counter, her eyes studying him. "So, you're the guy who keeps writing sonnets on napkins. Finally, I get to see if you're as poetic in real life."
"I—uh—well, I wouldn't call them sonnets exactly," Ethan stammered, feeling his cheeks heat. "More like... experimental verse."
"Experimental, huh?" Lila smirked. "How bold." She pushed a steaming cup of coffee toward him. "Your usual, on the house. But only if you tell me the inspiration behind all that romantic scribbling."
Ethan hesitated, torn between running for the door and spilling his soul. But Lila's gaze was steady, inviting.
"I guess... I've always believed in big, cinematic love stories," he admitted, his fingers tracing the edge of the cup. "You know, the kind where two people meet and everything changes. Like fate, or destiny."
Lila laughed softly, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Wow. You're the last of a dying breed, huh? A true romantic."
Ethan chuckled nervously. "Is that a good thing?"
"It's... different," she said, her tone softening. "Most people don't think like that anymore. But I like different."
Her words hung in the air, and for the first time, Ethan felt a spark of confidence. "Well, maybe I'll prove you right. Show you a different side of love."
Lila arched a brow, intrigued. "Is that so? You've got your work cut out for you, Poet Boy."
Before Ethan could respond, a group of customers came in, breaking the moment. Lila straightened up and grabbed her notepad. "Stay right there," she said, her voice warm but commanding. "Don't even think about sneaking off."
Ethan stayed glued to his seat, replaying their exchange in his mind. When Lila returned, she didn't go back behind the counter. Instead, she slid into the seat across from him, her expression unreadable.
"Alright," she said, leaning forward so their faces were only inches apart. "Tell me, Ethan. If you believe in fate so much... why do you think we matched?"
Ethan swallowed hard, caught off guard by her closeness. Her eyes were darker up close, like the espresso she served, and just as intoxicating.
"I think," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's because I needed to meet someone who'd challenge me. Someone who's not afraid to call me out on my cheesy poetry but might secretly like it."
Lila's lips twitched into a smile. "You're good, I'll give you that."
Their hands brushed lightly on the table, sending a jolt of electricity through Ethan. He swore the rest of the café faded away.
"And you know what?" she said, her voice dropping lower. "Maybe fate's got a sense of humor. Because I definitely wasn't looking for a hopeless romantic."
Ethan grinned. "But here I am."
Their laughter broke the tension, but the moment between them lingered—something unspoken but undeniably real.
For the first time, Ethan felt like he wasn't chasing a dream. He was living it.