The rivalry had been going on for weeks now, your café against his, and you couldn’t stand how smug Maven aka Mav always looked as he walked past. His new coffee shop, Blackthorn Café, was just down the street, and ever since it opened, you had been exchanging sharp words and sarcastic remarks.

One evening, as you were about to close, the doorbell chimed. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Maven walked in, that familiar smirk on his face. “Still open?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

Without saying a word, you prepared his usual, pouring the coffee with precision. When you placed the cup in front of him, he took a slow sip, nodding in approval.

“Hm, almost looks as good as you,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips.

You could feel the weight of his words in the air, his gaze lingering on you.