The next morning, Eliza found herself replaying yesterday's encounter like a favorite song stuck on repeat. She was rinsing mugs behind the counter when her co-worker, Mia, nudged her elbow.
"You're smiling to yourself," Mia teased, balancing a tray of pastries. "What's his name?"
Eliza rolled her eyes. "Not everything is about boys, you know."
Mia gave her a look. "Uh-huh. So what is it then?"
Eliza hesitated, her cheeks warming. "It's nothing. Just… a customer."
The café door chimed, as if mocking her. Eliza's head jerked up, and her breath caught.
Ari.
She stepped inside with the same quiet grace as the day before, but this time the hood of her coat was pushed back, revealing sharper details, the gentle slope of her cheekbones, the curve of lips that almost looked like they were holding back a secret.
Eliza's chest tightened. Yesterday hadn't been a dream.
Ari's gaze swept the café and landed on her, steady and deliberate. The connection snapped back in place, like a thread pulling tight.
Mia raised a brow. "Ohhh," she whispered under her breath. "So that's the customer."
"Shut up," Eliza hissed, fumbling for a cloth just to keep her hands busy.
When Ari reached the counter, Eliza forced her voice into something that sounded normal. "Back again?"
"Seems so," Ari said, their eyes flicking briefly to her name tag. "Eliza."
The way she spoke her name slowly, deliberately sent shivers crawling up her spine. She'd heard her name countless times, but never like that.
"And you?" she asked, hoping her words didn't sound as breathless as she felt. "Do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you 'black coffee'?"
A flicker of amusement touched Ari's lips. "Ari."
It was short, simple, and yet it carried weight, like there was a whole story folded into those three letters.
"Well, Ari," she said, finding a sliver of courage, "same order as yesterday?"
Ari leaned in slightly, voice dropping low enough that only she could hear. "Surprise me."
Her heart stuttered. Surprise them? What did that even mean? She grabbed a notepad, pretending to jot something down just to steady herself.
Eventually, she settled on a latte with a swirl of cinnamon a soft, warm drink, nothing like her stark choice yesterday. When she slid the cup across, Ari's fingers brushed hers again, lingering just a second longer than before.
"This is different," Ari said after the first sip. "But good."
Eliza let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
They sat at the same corner table by the window, the winter light softening their features. Eliza caught herself staring too often, then pretending to polish spoons or rearrange sugar jars. But each time their eyes met, something silent passed between them. Curiosity. Recognition. Something unnamed.
When Ari finally stood to leave, she paused at the counter. "Thank you," she said.
"For the coffee?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
"For the company," Ari replied, her voice brushing against her like velvet.
Then she was gone, leaving behind only the sound of the café door chime and the sharp realization that Ari wasn't just another customer.
Later that night, as Eliza lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she whispered her name to herself like a secret. Ari. Just three letters, but they carried enough weight to keep her awake, restless, and wondering what tomorrow might bring.