Sarah Thompson's life was a constant sprint, but this morning she was really pushing her luck. Her alarm clock, cheap and unreliable, had betrayed her again. By the time she rolled out of bed and stumbled into her jeans, it was already 8:07 AM.
She cursed under her breath as she shoved a stale granola bar into her mouth, tying her curls into a loose bun with one hand while grabbing her frayed backpack with the other. A quick glance at her phone made her heart sink—8:12. The Corner Bean, her job and sole source of income, didn't care about excuses.
The bus stop was a five-minute walk. Sarah covered it in two. She was out of breath when the rattling city bus pulled up, and she climbed aboard, ignoring the annoyed looks from the driver. The bus smelled like burnt rubber and old leather seats, but at least it was moving. Sarah dropped into a seat near the back, clutching her backpack to her chest like a lifeline.
"This day already sucks," she muttered.
By the time she made it to The Corner Bean—exactly one minute before her 8:30 shift—Sarah's sneakers were soaked from a puddle she hadn't noticed outside the door. The bell above the entrance jingled, cheerful and mocking.
"Sarah!" Evelyn's sharp voice cut through the air like a whip. Evelyn, the café's manager, had the uncanny ability to sound disappointed and angry at the same time. Her gray bob and horn-rimmed glasses added to the effect.
"You're late."
Sarah didn't bother to argue. "Only by a minute."
"Again," Evelyn stressed, arms crossed. "Get behind the counter. We're packed already."
Sarah bit her tongue and nodded, pushing through the swinging door to the coffee station. The Corner Bean wasn't fancy—just another campus café where stressed students and tired professors lined up for overpriced caffeine. A chalkboard menu hung above the counter, covered in doodles of steaming mugs and names of drinks no one could pronounce. The mismatched chairs and tables were meant to look eclectic, but most were just old.
Sarah tied on her apron and stepped up to the register.
"Welcome to The Corner Bean! What can I get started for you today?" she recited, forcing a smile.
The next hour blurred into a chaotic rhythm. Orders barked at her—"Extra foam!" "No whip!" "Oat milk, not almond!"—as she scribbled names onto cups and shouted for pickups. The espresso machine hissed like it shared her irritation. Sarah moved mechanically, pouring and steaming while the tips jar remained depressingly empty.
By 9:30, the morning rush was slowing. Sarah finally exhaled, wiping a bead of sweat from her temple as she cleared stray coffee grounds off the counter. Her wrists ached, her apron was already stained, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse into a booth with a free latte.
The bell above the door chimed.
"Black coffee. No sugar."
The voice startled her out of her daydream. Low and smooth, it carried a calm confidence that made her glance up instinctively.
The man standing in front of her was… unexpected.
Sarah's first impression was expensive. His dark trench coat was perfectly tailored to his tall, lean frame, and his shoes—clean, polished—didn't belong anywhere near the scuffed floors of The Corner Bean. He looked out of place, like someone had dropped him here by mistake.
His face wasn't helping. His jawline was sharp enough to make Sarah blink, and his tousled dark brown hair gave him an effortlessly put-together look. Designer sunglasses were hooked into the collar of his black sweater, and a thin gold watch peeked out from his sleeve.
Sarah cleared her throat, dragging her gaze away. Calm down, it's just a customer, she told herself.
"Black coffee. Got it," she said, reaching for a cup. "Name?"
"Luca," he replied, sliding a twenty-dollar bill across the counter.
Sarah frowned. She glanced at the bill, then back at him.
"Okay, Luca. That's… way too much for a black coffee."
"Keep the change," Luca said casually, his mouth curling into a faint smile.
Sarah blinked, startled by how nonchalant he was about it. Something about the way he looked at her—patient, amused—put her on edge.
"You don't have to throw money around like that, you know," she said before she could stop herself. "It's just coffee, not a Vegas show."
Luca's brow lifted, clearly surprised. For a moment, Sarah thought she'd gone too far. But then his lips twitched into a smirk, slow and deliberate.
"Noted," he said, leaning on the counter ever so slightly.
Sarah's cheeks burned. She turned her attention to pouring the coffee, determined not to look up again. There was something annoyingly magnetic about this guy, and she hated it. The sooner he left, the better.
She slid the cup across the counter. "Here. One black coffee, Luca."
"Thank you… Sarah."
Her head snapped up. "How do you know—"
Luca pointed, a small gesture toward her crooked name tag. Sarah felt her face heat even more.
"Right," she muttered.
He didn't say anything else, just picked up his coffee and turned toward the door. Sarah watched him go, despite herself. He moved like someone who knew people were watching—confident, unrushed. The trench coat swayed slightly as he stepped outside, the café door swinging shut behind him.
"Weirdo," Sarah mumbled, shaking her head.
But as she wiped down the counter, she couldn't stop replaying the moment in her head. There was something about him—something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
Outside, Luca slipped on his sunglasses as he walked down the sidewalk. A small smile played on his lips as he took a sip of the coffee, his pace unhurried.
Sarah hadn't recognized him.
Interesting.
Sarah tried to forget about the mysterious man as the shift dragged on. She moved through her duties mechanically, wiping down counters, refilling creamers, and stacking napkins into perfect, monotonous piles. The café had settled into its usual mid-morning lull, with only a handful of students hunched over laptops in the corner and an older man nursing his tea by the window.
But despite her best efforts, he kept sneaking back into her thoughts.
Who orders plain black coffee and hands over a twenty-dollar bill like it's pocket change? she wondered, replaying the brief exchange in her mind. More than that, she couldn't shake the way Luca had looked at her—calm, focused, and just amused enough to be irritating. People like him didn't usually come into The Corner Bean, and if they did, they definitely didn't linger the way he had.
Sarah scrubbed harder at a stubborn coffee stain, her frustration bubbling up.
"Annoying," she muttered under her breath.
"Who's annoying?"
The sudden voice startled her. She looked up to see Mia, her co-worker, standing by the espresso machine with a teasing grin. Mia was a year younger than Sarah, with short blonde hair and the kind of energy that made her seem perpetually caffeinated.
"No one," Sarah lied quickly, turning her attention back to the stain.
"Uh-huh." Mia crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, watching Sarah with interest. "Is this about hot trench coat guy?"
Sarah stiffened. "What are you talking about?"
"Come on." Mia rolled her eyes. "The guy with the fancy coat who ordered black coffee. You looked like you'd seen a ghost."
"I did not," Sarah said defensively.
"You so did." Mia grinned wider. "Honestly, though, I don't blame you. He was—what's the word?—devastating."
Sarah groaned, tossing the damp rag into the sink. "You're ridiculous."
"What?" Mia asked innocently. "Did you see his jawline? His face could be illegal in some countries."
"Can we not?"
"Fine, fine," Mia relented, holding up her hands. "But seriously, who do you think he was? He didn't look like a student."
Sarah shrugged, though she'd been wondering the same thing. "No clue. Just some guy who thinks throwing money around is charming."
Mia tilted her head. "You sound mad about it."
"I'm not mad," Sarah insisted, though her tone was sharper than she'd intended. She sighed, shaking her head. "I just don't get people like that. Walking around like they own the place. It's annoying."
Mia raised her eyebrows. "Someone's got issues."
Sarah shot her a glare, but Mia only laughed.
The rest of Sarah's shift passed uneventfully, and by the time the clock hit 3:00 PM, she was more than ready to leave. Her sneakers squeaked against the floor as she untied her stained apron and tossed it into the laundry bin. Evelyn gave her a terse nod as she left, which was about as close to a compliment as Sarah ever got from her manager.
Outside, the sun was bright but weak, casting a pale glow over the cracked sidewalks. Sarah shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie as she walked, trying to ignore the nagging ache in her feet. Her apartment wasn't far—just a ten-minute walk if she cut through the back alley behind the campus buildings.
The alley smelled faintly of garbage and rain, but Sarah didn't care. It was faster, and she was too tired to care about much else. She let her mind wander as she walked, her thoughts drifting back to Luca against her will.
Why do you even care? she scolded herself. You'll never see him again.
Still, there was something about him that unsettled her. The way he'd smiled at her, like he knew something she didn't. Sarah had spent years perfecting the art of being invisible—fitting into the background, unnoticed and unbothered. People like Luca, with their sharp suits and effortless charm, didn't pay attention to people like her. And if they did, it usually wasn't for long.
But he'd looked at her differently.
Sarah shook the thought away as she reached her building. The apartment complex was old and ugly, with peeling paint and an elevator that hadn't worked in years. She climbed the stairs to the third floor, her legs protesting with each step.
Her apartment was small and sparsely furnished—just a mattress on the floor, a secondhand desk covered in textbooks, and a thrift-store armchair she'd rescued months ago. The kitchen was little more than a stove, sink, and mini-fridge, but it was enough. Sarah had never been someone who needed much.
She dropped her backpack onto the floor with a loud thump and flopped onto the mattress, staring up at the cracked ceiling. The shift had left her exhausted, but she knew there was no time to rest. Her classes were piling up, and the midterm essays looming over her made her stomach twist with dread.
"Just five minutes," she murmured, letting her eyes drift shut.
Her five minutes turned into twenty. When she finally sat up, groggy and frustrated with herself, the room had already dimmed with the approaching evening.
Sarah groaned, rubbing her eyes. "I'm hopeless."
She grabbed her laptop from the desk and settled into the armchair, determined to at least outline her next essay. The screen flickered to life, and for a while, she managed to focus. Words spilled onto the page—awkward, messy, but there. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing.
By the time she closed her laptop, it was nearly 7:00 PM. Her stomach rumbled loudly in protest, and she realized she hadn't eaten since the granola bar that morning.
Rummaging through her fridge yielded depressing results: half a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a few wrinkled apples. Sarah sighed and settled for peanut butter toast, eating it straight off a paper towel as she scrolled through her phone.
Her mind drifted back to Luca again, though she tried to push him out. It was stupid. He was just some rich guy passing through—a momentary blip in her otherwise unremarkable day. She'd probably never see him again.
At least, that's what she told herself.
The next morning started almost exactly like the last. Sarah's alarm failed her again, the bus was late, and by the time she rushed into The Corner Bean, she was breathless and sweaty.
"Cutting it close again, Sarah," Evelyn said, not even looking up as she restocked the pastry case.
Sarah muttered a quick apology and tied on her apron, already feeling the stress creep into her chest. The early-morning rush hit hard, and soon she was knee-deep in orders, her hands moving faster than her brain.
"Large vanilla latte for Emma!"
"Medium cold brew, no ice!"
"Double espresso, oat milk!"
The hours blurred into a familiar haze of noise and motion, and for a while, Sarah managed to lose herself in the routine.
But then the bell above the door chimed again, and her stomach dropped.
Luca.
He walked in like he had all the time in the world, his dark coat draped perfectly over his shoulders. Today, he wasn't wearing the sunglasses, which made it impossible for Sarah to avoid his gaze. His eyes were dark brown, sharp and unreadable, and they found her instantly.
Sarah looked away quickly, focusing on the coffee grinder as though it was the most interesting thing in the world.
"Morning," he said smoothly as he approached the counter.
Sarah gritted her teeth and plastered on her best fake smile. "Morning. Black coffee again?"
"You remember," Luca said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'm flattered."
Sarah rolled her eyes, unable to stop herself. "It's not exactly a complicated order."
Luca chuckled softly, sliding another twenty-dollar bill across the counter. Sarah stared at it for a moment, then back at him.
"Seriously?" she said. "I told you yesterday—you don't have to do that."
"Think of it as… a tip for great service," Luca replied, his smile infuriatingly calm.
Sarah huffed but took the bill anyway. "Your choice, I guess."
She poured the coffee with practiced ease, ignoring the way Luca seemed to be watching her every move. When she handed him the cup, he lingered for a moment, his fingers brushing hers briefly.
"See you tomorrow, Sarah," he said, turning to leave.
Sarah blinked. "Tomorrow?"
But Luca was already walking out the door, leaving her standing there with her mouth half open.
What does that even mean?