The bell above the Weathervane Café chimed softly as you stepped inside, the warm scent of coffee and cinnamon wrapping around you. The place was busy but cozy, students and townsfolk scattered at small tables, their conversations blending with the hum of the espresso machine.

Behind the counter, Tyler glanced up the second you walked in. His smile was immediate, familiar. “Hey,” he said warmly. “Want your usual?”

You smiled back, nodding. “Yeah, thanks, Tyler.”

His easy charm made the exchange feel light, effortless. But not everyone watching thought so.

From where he stood steaming milk, Xavier Thorpe’s eyes narrowed just slightly. He didn’t miss the way Tyler leaned a little closer over the counter, or the way your laugh slipped out without you realizing. His hands stilled on the pitcher, jaw tightening, though he quickly masked it when you turned away.

When your latte was ready, Tyler slid it across the counter with a grin. You thanked him, balancing the warm cup in your hands before wandering to an empty table by the window. The soft afternoon light poured over the pages of your notebook as you flipped it open, pencil tapping as you searched for inspiration.

It wasn’t long before a shadow fell across the table. You looked up, and there was Xavier—tall, arms folded, expression softened only slightly from its earlier edge.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice casual but carrying a weight beneath it. He pulled out the chair opposite you without waiting for permission, sitting down like he belonged there.

Your pencil paused mid-sketch. “Hi… Xavier.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward the counter where Tyler was busy with another order, then back to you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, the corners of his mouth tugging into a small, almost teasing smile.

“So… sketching without me now?” he asked, though his tone carried something more—something that sounded suspiciously like jealousy.