I have to admit that I look at the door expecting him every time that bell rings. I can lie to myself all I want, but I know the truth—I’m waiting to see him. His daily visit and single question have become a highlight, something I look forward to even though I know I shouldn’t.
I’ve been fortunate so far. Preston normally comes in toward the end of my shift, while Logan tends to show up earlier. Usually, when he arrives, his hair is still damp, like he just stepped out of the shower.
I’m grateful that the two paths haven’t crossed, because Preston would definitely recognize him—he’s a huge Cranes fan.
The customer orders a simple black coffee. I pour it, take his payment, and hand it over with a smile. He thanks me and heads to a corner table with his laptop.
I turn back to wipe down the espresso machine, and the bell chimes again.
My heart kicks up a beat.
Logan walks in, and just like every other time, something in my chest loosens. He’s wearing a fitted gray T-shirt that shows off his arms, and sure enough, his dark hair is still damp at the ends.
I shouldn’t notice these things.
But I do.
“Hey, Tessa,” he says, that easy grin spreading across his face as he approaches the counter.
“Hi,” I manage, and I hate how breathless I sound.
“Busy morning?”
“Not too bad.” I grab a cup, already anticipating his order. He’s been sticking with the same iced latte for a couple of days now. “The usual?”
“You know it.”
I start making his honey cinnamon oat latte, hyperaware of him watching me. The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. Oddly, it feels... familiar. Safe, even.
“So,” he says, leaning against the counter, “it’s question time.”
I glance over my shoulder at him, fighting a smile. I finish his latte and slide it across the counter. “Okay, what’s your question?”
He takes a sip of his drink, eyes never leaving mine. “What do you do before you come here every day? Like, what’s your morning routine?”
It’s such a simple question, but something about it feels intimate. Like he’s trying to picture my life outside of this counter.
“Um, well,” I start, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “I wake up early. Make breakfast. Study for a bit if I have reading to do for class. Then I come here.”
“That’s it?” He tilts his head. “No morning workout? No meditation? No elaborate skincare routine?”
I laugh. “No. Nothing that exciting.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “Sounds pretty peaceful to me.”
“What about you?” I ask before I can stop myself. “What do you do before your daily coffee run?”
His grin widens. “Is that your question for today?”
“I guess it is.”
“Well,” he leans in slightly, “I lift with the guys from the team. We hit the gym early, put in a couple of hours of work. Then I shower and head here.”
“That makes sense,” I say, nodding.
“Does it?”
“Yeah. I mean, your—” I stop myself, realizing what I’m about to say.
