From that day on, she came in every morning—always at ten sharp, always in something that drew the eye without trying. Sometimes it was that same red dress, catching the light like fire. Sometimes it was jeans and a crisp white blouse, her hair loose, swaying as if the morning breeze had followed her inside. But one thing never changed:
"Large cappuccino," she would say—warm, polite, businesslike.
And Evan would make it.
It became their unspoken ritual. He knew exactly how she liked the foam—dense and silky, with just the barest dusting of cocoa powder. By the second week, he didn't even need to hear the order; her presence at the counter was enough. She'd hand him the exact change, fingers brushing his for the briefest moment, just long enough to send a small jolt through his chest. Then she'd take her coffee, offer a slight nod, and leave—heels tapping in a rhythm that stayed in his head long after she was gone.
Evan never asked for her name. Never asked for her number. The thought alone made his stomach knot. He had never—outside of his mother—felt a woman look at him like he mattered, even if it was only for the seconds it took to pass a cup across the counter.
And he was sinking into it fast.
By the third week, his coworkers had noticed.
"You space out every time she walks in," one of the baristas teased, rinsing glasses behind the counter. "Man, if you stared any harder, she'd charge you rent for living in her personal space."
Evan muttered something about focusing on the order, but even he knew it wasn't convincing.
It was his manager, Tom, who finally pulled him aside late one afternoon, leaning against the counter like he owned the place.
"You know who that is, right?" Tom asked.
Evan blinked. "…A customer?"
Tom let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Sure. That's Lila—the Lila. Her boyfriend's Daniel Roth."
The name didn't register—until Tom kept going.
"Family's loaded. We're talking old money, the kind that doesn't just buy houses—it buys skylines. Roth Group owns half the buildings downtown. Daniel's their golden boy—tall, absurdly good-looking, the kind of guy who wears a suit like it's his natural skin. Captain of the university rowing team. Plays tennis like a pro. Used to fence internationally before 'focusing on business.' Graduated top of his class in prep school, now double-majoring in economics and political science like it's nothing. And somehow, he still has time to host charity galas and win every networking event he walks into."
Tom's gaze sharpened, voice lowering. "And he's crazy about her. She's crazy about him too."
The words landed heavy, like a weight in Evan's chest.
Tom clapped him on the shoulder. "Look, it's not a crime to notice someone like her. Hell, it's normal. But guys like us? We don't chase women like that. You'd just be setting yourself up to crash."
Evan forced a stiff smile. "Yeah. I know."
But that night, alone in his shoebox apartment, the taste of cocoa and steamed milk still lingered on his tongue—and he hated himself for wishing morning would come faster.
The new semester rolled in with a tide of fresh faces, crowded lecture halls, and the constant hum of campus life. Evan's shifts at the café became less frequent—three days a week, if Tom needed him.
It meant he didn't see her for days at a time.
And those days felt longer than they should have.
By the time Thursday afternoon came, the sun slanted low through the café windows, turning the tables into warm patches of gold. Evan was wiping down the counter, moving in the steady rhythm of routine, when the bell above the door chimed.
He looked up—
And froze.
She walked in first, hair loose and catching the light, a soft cream sweater draped over her shoulders. But she wasn't alone.
He followed.
Daniel Roth didn't just enter a room—he claimed it. Six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, with the kind of chest that stretched the fabric of his navy button-down in a way that wasn't accidental. The shirt was tailored to perfection, framing a torso built from hours in the gym and years in competitive sports. His posture was effortless, shoulders square, chin slightly lifted, like someone who had never needed to ask for permission to exist.
His face was just as striking—strong jawline, straight nose, cheekbones that caught the light. Deep-set eyes, the kind that seemed to look through people rather than at them, framed by lashes unfairly long for a man. Even his smile—when it came—was blinding, teeth straight and white as though they belonged in a commercial.
And he smelled expensive. Not the cloying heaviness of cheap cologne, but the subtle, clean sharpness of something that cost more than Evan made in a month.
They moved together like a scene from a movie—her hand brushing his arm as they approached the counter, their steps unconsciously in sync. She looked up at him with a warmth that was different from the polite nods she gave Evan; it was the warmth of familiarity, of belonging.
Evan's throat went dry.
She smiled at him. "Large cappuccino, please."
Daniel added, voice smooth, deep, and certain. "And a double espresso." Even the way he ordered coffee sounded like a statement.
Evan nodded quickly, turning to the machine before his hands could betray the tension coiled in them. The hiss of steaming milk filled the air, but he could still hear them—her soft laugh, his low reply, the quiet click of her nails against his sleeve.
Every word between them was easy. Natural. The kind of comfort that came from years, not weeks.
Evan risked a glance as he set the cups on the counter. Daniel's arm was resting along the back of her chair, his presence filling the small space around her. She leaned slightly into it, like gravity worked differently between them.
"Thanks, man," Daniel said, reaching for the espresso. His smile was quick, polite—like he smiled at waiters and drivers and doormen all the same. Like Evan was another piece of the background.
Evan managed a stiff nod, but his stomach was tight. The difference between them felt like the difference between a shadow and the man who cast it.
And for the first time, he wondered if Tom had been wrong—It wasn't just that guys like him didn't get women like her.It was that women like her already had everything they needed.