Anne Seong was on high alert.
It had been four days since the Great Coffee Catastrophe™. Four days of her swearing she didn't care, and four days of her scanning every corner of Brewology like she was avoiding an ex… who wasn't technically an ex… just a very annoying human espresso shot with cheekbones and way too much charm.
She adjusted her tote bag on her shoulder and slipped into the café, trying to act casual. Her eyes darted to every seat. No sign of him.
Safe.
She exhaled.
"Triple-shot oat milk vanilla latte for Anne," the barista called, like a battle cry.
She stepped forward—
"Hey, Ant."
She froze.
Turned slowly.
And there he was.
Javier Park.
Black hoodie. One earbud in. Leaning against the condiment station like he owned the place—or at least like he got free refills on being insufferable.
Anne narrowed her eyes. "Do you just live here waiting to emotionally ambush me?"
He shrugged. "Not every day. Wednesdays and Sundays mostly."
"It's Thursday."
"I had a hunch you'd come early today. You're a creature of emotionally driven caffeine habits."
"I will throw this latte at you."
He grinned. "As long as you don't waste the foam art."
Anne hated how easy it was to almost smile around him.
He held up a to-go cup. "Bought you a muffin. Chocolate chip. I remembered."
"I never told you my muffin preference," she said cautiously.
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh no. Did I commit the heinous crime of paying attention?"
Anne folded her arms. "What do you want, Javier?"
He sipped his coffee and looked at her seriously for a moment. "A redo."
"A redo?"
"Our meet-cute was more meet-chaotic."
Anne blinked. "Meet-cute? You mean when you baptized me in scalding caffeine?"
"Exactly. See? You get it."
She stared. "You're unbelievable."
"Thanks," he said, like she'd handed him a Nobel Prize. "So how about it? A proper first meeting. Like normal people. No coffee trauma, no insults."
"And if I say no?"
"I'll just have to keep showing up here until fate gives us a montage."
Anne considered walking away. But then—
"Fine," she said, grabbing the muffin. "But if you call me 'Ant' again, I will drop-kick you into the oat milk fridge."
He mock-zipped his lips.
They walked outside together. Anne immediately regretted it. The sun was out. The sky was blue. It was the kind of stupidly nice day that made people fall in love accidentally.
As they walked side by side, she glanced at him.
"So… where are we redoing our meeting?"
He stopped. "There's a pop-up art show around the corner. Weird stuff. Broken clocks and sad mannequins. Feels appropriately chaotic for us."
She laughed. "Okay, that actually sounds perfect."
He smiled wider. "Then it's a date—"
"Not a date," she corrected, cheeks pink.
"A pre-date," he offered.
Anne rolled her eyes so hard they nearly popped out.
They turned the corner, and that's when she saw it—rows of art booths, students sketching, and…
A giant painting.
Of her.
Standing in the rain.
Holding a latte.
Dripping coffee down her coat.
And smiling.
Her jaw dropped. She turned slowly to Javier, eyes wide.
"Please tell me you didn't—"
"I didn't paint it," he said quickly, holding up his hands. "I swear. But I might know the artist."
"Who—"
And that's when the artist stepped out from behind the booth.
Wearing Anne's old high school hoodie.
Someone she hadn't seen in years.
Someone who should not be in this city.