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Chapter 1: Coffee, Chaos, and Chance Meetings
Evelyn had woken up to a chorus of disasters.
First, her alarm didn't go off. She groggily opened one eye, glanced at the clock, and immediately bolted upright. Her heart was racing before her feet even touched the floor. Thirty minutes late. Fantastic.
Then there was Basil, her chaos-loving tabby cat, who seemed to thrive on her misery. The second she got out of bed, he decided to leap onto her nightstand, sending her glasses skidding across the hardwood floor and under the bed. Evelyn dropped to her knees, groping blindly for the frames as Basil watched from his perch, tail flicking smugly.
"Thanks for nothing," she muttered, finally retrieving her glasses—only to find a deep scratch across one lens.
She barely had time to throw on an outfit (wrinkled shirt, mismatched socks) and grab her bookbag before sprinting out the door. The subway ride to work was a fresh kind of nightmare. Her bag, already teetering on the edge of collapse, chose that exact moment to snap a strap and spill its contents across the train floor.
As she scrambled to collect her things—receipts, pens, a very personal journal she prayed no one had time to read—a man stepped on her favorite pen. It cracked audibly, and Evelyn had to bite back a scream.
By the time she made it to the café near her office, she was disheveled, exhausted, and running on fumes. All she wanted was a caramel latte strong enough to resurrect her soul.
The café was crowded, as usual. Evelyn joined the line, adjusting her broken bag and clutching her paperback like it was a life preserver. The book was an old favorite, a romantic tale she'd read a dozen times. The edges were worn, the cover faded, but it was comforting—unlike the morning she'd just endured.
As she debated whether her budget could handle the extravagance of caramel syrup, she stepped forward—and immediately regretted it.
Her sneaker landed in something sticky.
"Seriously?" she muttered, lifting her foot to inspect the damage.
A glob of jelly clung to the sole of her shoe, glittering in the morning sunlight like it was mocking her.
"Careful," said a voice behind her. "That jam's claimed at least three victims today. Looks like you're number four."
Evelyn turned, already preparing a sarcastic response, but the words caught in her throat.
The girl standing behind her was... distractingly gorgeous. Lilac-dyed hair fell around her face in soft waves, and her green eyes were lit with amusement. She was wearing an oversized sweater that looked like it belonged in a catalog and combat boots that could probably crush the patriarchy.
"Guess I'm the latest casualty," Evelyn said, attempting to sound casual as she wrestled her shoe free.
The girl smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Welcome to the club. Membership is free, but we all pay in embarrassment."
Evelyn let out a short laugh, despite herself. "Story of my life." She gestured to her bag, which was hanging on by a thread. "This thing already betrayed me once today. I'm just waiting for round two."
The girl tilted her head, studying her. "At least you're still standing. That's impressive, given the circumstances."
Before Evelyn could reply, the barista called out, "Lilac Latte for Violet!"
The girl—Violet, apparently—stepped forward to grab her drink. She lingered by the counter, glancing back at Evelyn with a small, knowing smile.
"By the way, your bag's unzipped again."
Evelyn froze, looking down in horror. Sure enough, the zipper was gaping open, and her paperback was sticking out like it was trying to escape.
"Oh, come on," she groaned, quickly shoving the book back in and yanking the zipper shut.
Violet chuckled, her green eyes sparkling. "Maybe the universe isn't against you. It could just be testing your patience."
"Or it has a personal vendetta," Evelyn muttered.
"Could be both." Violet took a sip of her drink, her lips curving into a grin. "See you around, Jelly Shoes."
And with that, she was gone, leaving Evelyn to sputter indignantly. "Jelly Shoes? Really?"
The line moved forward, and Evelyn stepped up to the counter, still flustered. She ordered her latte, her mind replaying the encounter on an endless loop.
By the time she left the café, latte in hand, her mood had shifted. The day had been a mess, sure, but there was something about Violet—her lilac hair, her quick wit, the way she seemed to see right through Evelyn's chaos—that made the morning feel less terrible.
As she walked to work, she glanced over her shoulder, half-hoping to see Violet again. But the street was crowded, and the lilac-haired girl was nowhere in sight.
Evelyn sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Jelly Shoes," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. "What kind of nickname is that?"
Still, she couldn't stop thinking about her.
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