“Are you sure this is okay?” she whispered, sliding a cup of hot chocolate toward him.
Ethan smiled, eyes meeting hers.“Trust me. I’ve played worse crowds.”
As the first notes of his song filled the café, Emma felt the room transform. The soft, melodic chords drew smiles from even the most distracted customers. People paused their conversations, enchanted by the raw sincerity in his voice.
Emma couldn’t help but watch him closely. There was a confidence in the way he played, yet the way his eyes occasionally flicked toward her made her heart skip a beat. She busied herself with orders, but the music lingered in her chest, a pulse she couldn’t ignore.
Halfway through his set, Ethan glanced up, catching her staring. He winked, and Emma felt a sudden warmth creep up her neck. She turned quickly, pretending to focus on the espresso machine, though the blush refused to fade.
After the last note, the café erupted in applause. Ethan grinned, bowing theatrically.“Thank you, thank you. And thanks to the lovely barista who made me feel at home.”
Emma’s heart skipped.“I didn’t do anything,” she murmured, though she knew he meant her attention, her quiet presence, and perhaps the way she had been watching him with more interest than she cared to admit.
Ethan packed up his guitar, glancing back at her with a soft, lingering smile.“See you tomorrow?” he asked, casual but loaded with meaning.
Emma hesitated, then nodded.“Yeah… see you tomorrow.”
As she cleaned the counter, she couldn’t help but replay his smile, his music, and the way the café felt somehow brighter with him there. She realized, with a flutter of excitement and a hint of nerves, that life at Café Starlight might be about to become a lot more interesting.
Chapter 3:
Between Sips and Strings
The next morning, Café Starlight smelled of cinnamon, fresh bread, and coffee. Emma wiped down the counter, anticipating another evening of Ethan’s music. When he arrived, guitar case in hand, he wore the same mischievous grin as before.
“Morning, Emma,” he said, leaning casually against the counter.“Thought I’d warm up with some practice before tonight.”
“You’re early,” she teased, sliding a cup of cappuccino toward him.“Are you always this punctual?”
“Depends on the barista,” he replied, eyes twinkling.“Some mornings, I might be late… but not when she’s serving the coffee.”
Emma felt her cheeks warm.“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she muttered, though the corner of her mouth betrayed a smile.
As Ethan strummed softly in the corner, he and Emma fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. He talked about his travels, the small towns he had performed in, and the people he had met along the way. Emma shared snippets of her life too—the quiet joys of working at the café, the books she loved, and her secret dream of someday writing a story that could make someone feel exactly the way music made her feel now.
“You know,” Ethan said, pausing mid-strum,“I think you’d be great at that. You have a way of noticing details that matter.”
Emma blinked at him, caught off guard.“You really think so?”
“I do,” he said simply, resuming his gentle melody.“And you’d make it beautiful, just like this song.”
Emma’s heart skipped a beat. She looked away, pretending to focus on the steaming espresso machine, but her thoughts lingered on him—the way he noticed her, the way he believed in her.
By the time the café filled with the evening crowd, their easy banter had blossomed into a playful, flirty energy. Ethan tossed her a playful wink when a customer complimented the music, and she responded with a teasing smile, secretly thrilled by the attention.
As the night drew to a close, Emma realized something: Café Starlight had always been her little world, comfortable and predictable. But now, with Ethan’s music, his laughter, and the spark between them, her world had grown wider, brighter, and infinitely more exciting.
And she couldn’t wait to see where it might go.
Chapter 4:
Spills and Sparks
The café was busy that afternoon, a steady hum of conversation and clinking mugs filling the air. Emma balanced a tray of lattes and cappuccinos as she navigated between tables, her mind half on orders and half on Ethan, who was tuning his guitar in the corner.
“Careful!” Ethan called suddenly, his eyes widening just as a tray wobbled in her hands.
Emma stumbled, and in an almost slow-motion moment, one of the cappuccinos tipped, splattering foam onto the counter—and, unfortunately, onto Ethan’s shoes.
