Extra Shot

I fell in love at 7:15 AM on a Tuesday in October, standing in line at The Grind, ordering my usual oat milk latte from a barista whose name tag said "Zara" and whose smile said "you're in trouble."

She had dark curly hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, warm brown skin, and the kind of presence that made the whole coffee shop feel brighter. She moved behind the counter like she was dancing, each motion flowing into the next, and she remembered everyone's orders before they said them.

"Oat milk latte, extra shot, no foam?"

"How did you know?"

"You've been coming here every morning for three weeks. I pay attention."

She winked, and I forgot how money worked. I stared at the card reader for a full ten seconds before she gently reminded me to tap.

"See you tomorrow, mystery girl."

"I have a name."

"I know. You just haven't told me yet."

* * *

I told her my name the next day. Riley. She said it three times, like she was tasting it, and wrote it on my cup in elaborate cursive with a tiny heart after the Y.

By week two, she was making my drink before I even ordered. By week three, we'd moved from small talk to actual conversations, her art, my job, her dreams of opening her own café, my dreams of escaping corporate life.

By week four, I was rearranging my entire morning schedule to have ten extra minutes at The Grind.

"You've got it bad," my coworker noted, watching me stare at my coffee cup like it held the secrets of the universe.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"She drew a latte art heart in your foam. You've been photographing it for five minutes."

I had been photographing it. The heart was perfect.

ss="scene-break">* * *

The Day Everything Changed

I came in on a Saturday, not my usual day, and found Zara behind the counter, looking exhausted but still somehow radiant.

"Riley! What are you doing here? It's the weekend."

"I was in the neighborhood."

"This is nowhere near your office."

"I was... in a different neighborhood. That led to this one."

She laughed, and the tired lines around her eyes softened.

"I'm on break in ten minutes. Want to sit with me?"

I waited at a corner table, heart pounding, until she appeared with two drinks and slid into the seat across from me.

"I have a confession."

"What?"

"I've been coming up with elaborate latte art just to see you smile. Last week I stayed an extra hour practicing to get that rosetta perfect."

"I have a confession too."