For once, Sarah wasn't late. In fact, she was *early*—twenty minutes early. The Corner Bean was still quiet, save for Evelyn in the back unpacking a box of fresh pastries. The light filtering through the windows was soft, casting faint shadows across the counters.
Sarah busied herself wiping tables, trying to pretend her heart wasn't racing in anticipation.
She knew what time it was.
*9:42 AM.*
Her eyes darted to the clock every thirty seconds until finally, the bell above the door chimed at exactly 9:45.
"Morning, Sarah."
Luca's voice, deep and smooth, sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. She turned around slowly, forcing a neutral expression as he approached the counter. Today, he wasn't wearing his coat, just a crisp black sweater that looked far too good on him.
"Morning," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Let me guess—black coffee?"
"You're catching on."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't fight the small smile that tugged at her lips. She turned to pour his coffee, acutely aware of his gaze lingering on her. He was always watching her, like he could see things no one else could. It was unnerving.
When she set the cup down in front of him, Luca didn't hand her a twenty. Instead, he leaned one elbow on the counter, his posture relaxed.
"So, Sarah, do you always frown at people who compliment you?"
She blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
Luca's smile was subtle but mischievous. "You're always so serious. It's a little intimidating."
"I'm not intimidating," she said quickly.
"You are," he countered, a teasing glint in his eyes. "In a good way."
Sarah stared at him, her cheeks heating up. "I—what is *that* supposed to mean?"
Luca shrugged. "It means you don't let anyone get away with nonsense. I like that about you."
Her face grew hotter. She looked away, suddenly very interested in the sugar packets on the counter. "You don't even know me."
"Maybe I'd like to," he said simply.
Sarah froze, her fingers pausing mid-motion. She looked back up at him, searching for a hint of sarcasm, but there wasn't any. Luca's gaze was steady, his expression calm, and for a moment, she forgot how to speak.
"You're ridiculous," she muttered, looking down again.
He chuckled softly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Before she could respond, Luca placed a twenty-dollar bill on the counter—again.
"You're impossible," Sarah said, glaring at the money.
"And you're fun to bother," Luca replied with a grin. "See you tomorrow, Sarah."
The door jingled, and just like that, he was gone.
---
The next morning, Sarah tried to steel herself. *Don't let him get to you today,* she told herself as she tied her apron. *He's just a guy who thinks he's charming.*
But she already knew it was a lost cause.
The bell chimed right on schedule, and Luca strolled in like he owned the place.
"Morning," he said, his voice smooth and familiar.
Sarah didn't bother greeting him back. She grabbed a cup, poured his coffee, and set it on the counter without looking up.
"There," she said briskly. "Anything else?"
Luca raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Is this how you treat all your favorite customers?"
"You're not my favorite customer," she said flatly.
"Ouch." He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "I'm hurt."
Sarah fought the smile that threatened to break through. "You'll live."
Luca leaned against the counter, watching her with that same infuriating smirk. "You know, Sarah, if you keep frowning like that, you'll get wrinkles."
She shot him a sharp look. "Did you just call me old?"
"Not at all," he said smoothly. "I'm just saying you'd look even better if you smiled more."
Her jaw dropped. "Did you seriously just say *that* to me? 'Smile more'? That's the oldest line in the book."
Luca laughed—a low, rich sound that made her stomach twist in a way she didn't want to analyze. "You're right. That was terrible."
"You think?"
"Let me try again," he said, his tone playful. "You don't *need* to smile more. You're already interesting enough as you are."
Sarah stared at him, thrown completely off balance. She wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a compliment, but it felt like one. And worse—it worked.
"You're impossible," she muttered, turning back to the espresso machine so he wouldn't see the faint smile tugging at her lips.
Luca didn't say anything for a moment, but she could feel his gaze on her. Finally, he spoke.
"See you tomorrow, Sarah."
This time, when he walked out, her smile lingered for longer than she'd like to admit.
---
The flirting continued.
Every day, Luca found new ways to tease her, new comments to throw her off balance. Sarah told herself it didn't mean anything—that this was just a game to him. But some days, when he looked at her with that quiet intensity, she couldn't help but wonder.
One afternoon, as the café began to empty out, Luca showed up later than usual. Sarah was surprised; she'd started to expect him like clockwork.
"Running late today?" she asked, trying to sound indifferent.
"Did you miss me?" Luca replied, his grin lazy and self-assured.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "In your dreams."
"Maybe," he said casually, making her choke on her own breath.
"Excuse me?"
Luca laughed, clearly pleased with himself. "Relax, Sarah. You're fun to mess with."
"You're the worst," she said, shaking her head as she turned away.
"And yet," Luca said softly, "you're still talking to me."
Sarah froze.
She turned back to him slowly, her expression wary. "What's *that* supposed to mean?"
Luca leaned closer, just enough to make her pulse spike. "It means you like this as much as I do."
Sarah's throat went dry. She opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. Because deep down, part of her knew he was right.
"I—"
The bell above the door chimed, and another customer walked in, breaking the moment. Sarah exhaled sharply, stepping back and turning toward the newcomer.
"Enjoy your coffee," she muttered at Luca, refusing to look at him.
"Always," he replied, his voice soft.
When he left, Sarah let out a shaky breath, her heart hammering in her chest.
What was happening?
---
That evening, as Sarah sat in her apartment, curled up with her laptop, she couldn't stop thinking about Luca.
It wasn't fair. He was taking up *space* in her head—space she couldn't afford to waste.
"This is stupid," she muttered to herself, flipping through the pages of her economics textbook. "He's just some guy."
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't ignore the way he looked at her, or the way he always knew exactly what to say to leave her flustered.
She hated it. And yet, part of her didn't.
---
The next morning, Sarah braced herself for Luca's arrival.
When the door chimed, she looked up, prepared for another round of his teasing remarks. But Luca didn't say anything.
Instead, he walked up to the counter, holding something behind his back.
"Morning, Sarah," he said, his tone softer than usual.
"Morning," she replied cautiously, narrowing her eyes. "What's that?"
Luca grinned and pulled a small paper bag from behind his back, setting it on the counter.
"What is this?" Sarah asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously.
"Breakfast," he said. "You're always here early, and I figured you might not have time to eat."
Sarah stared at him, completely stunned. "You—what?"
"Don't look so shocked," Luca said with a smile. "It's just a croissant."
Sarah opened the bag, and sure enough, there was a perfectly flaky croissant inside. She looked back up at him, her expression guarded.
"Why are you doing this?"
Luca shrugged. "Maybe I just wanted to see you smile."
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
"You're ridiculous," she muttered, but this time, she couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips.
"See?" Luca said softly. "Worth it."
Sarah looked away quickly, her cheeks burning.
"I hate you," she muttered under her breath.
"No, you don't," Luca replied, his voice light and teasing.
And for once, Sarah couldn't bring herself to argue.