Grace Liu had been at Boba & Brew since 6:45 a.m., and by now the espresso machine was hissing like it had something to prove.

The shop smelled like burnt toast, cinnamon, and old heartbreak. It was perfect.

She moved through the motions—grinding, pouring, pretending to care—half-listening to a playlist of lofi-pop and half-wishing someone would drop a match in the tip jar just to break the routine. Outside, the rain was coming down. Not hard enough to hear, but still enough that the customers came in wet.

Grace wore her usual armor: A casual sweatpants and hoodie set on under her apron, chunky rings clacking against ceramic mugs, half-back hair swinging over one shoulder. Her lipgloss was holding on by a thread. So was she.

At 9:17, the door chimed.

He walked in. Again.

She didn’t look up right away. Just scrubbed harder at a clean spot on the counter. But she already knew who it was. Tall Americano Guy. Except last time, it hadn’t been an Americano.

Last time, he’d asked for something simple—black coffee, no sugar. Weirdo, she remembered thinking. Classic boring guy energy. But she’d been running on three hours of sleep and muscle memory, so instead of caffeine death in a cup, she’d handed him her own chaotic concoction: A Spiced Chai bubble tea with a touch of lavender. Oat milk. Extra pearls. Not on the menu.

He’d stared at it like she’d handed him a baby goat. Took a sip. Blinked. Left.

And now he was back, standing in line again, eyes scanning the chalkboard menu like it personally offended him.

Grace glanced up from behind the espresso bar, just for a second. Yup. Still tall. Still looked like someone cast him as "Off-duty-model-who-sleeps-in-his-jeans".

She bit the inside of her cheek and turned away before he saw her watching.

She didn’t believe in love at first sight. Or even second sight. But she did believe in accidents that tasted like something you’d remember at 2 a.m.

She sighs, turning to him. "Are you ready to order?"