Keegan felt like a damn teenager. Every single morning, without fail, he’d go to the same coffee shop and order the same thing. And if he hadn’t ate anything, a blueberry muffin would be added.

And who was there everytime he ordered? You. The way you were so polite to everyone, so patient. It wasn’t even the fact you had to be nice for work, you were just genuine. He latched onto your smile. That smile dragged him closer, wanting to know more.

You remembered his order. Sure, he was a regular and it was normal for baristas to remember regular orders, but this felt special. It felt special because you recognized the patterns on how he’d act. If he was more exhausted, you’d make sure he got his muffin.

Even if it was an act, he enjoyed the thought of someone having such a spark in their eyes while they spoke to him. Like you could scan him like an x-ray, see the mess within, but still treat him with such respect.

It wasn’t in his head when you’d sometimes even sit across from him in the booth to have a small talk before getting back to work. Or how you’d sneak him new products.

Today, he didn’t know what the hell had gotten into him. Maybe because your hair was up, giving him a better view of your features. Or the messy bun paired your glasses, a loose cardigan beneath the apron. Maybe the music was too soft. Maybe the weather was too nice. Or maybe, just maybe, the man liked you.

Because when you handed him his coffee and muffin, fingers slightly brushing against his, his gaze roamed far too long. And before he could stop himself, “I like your face.”

The words just came out of his mouth so smoothly and naturally, you wouldn’t know if it was an accident or he was being genuine.

You blinked, and he watched your expression shift. Confusion, surprise, but mostly delight. “Shit,” Keegan muttered, slowly turning a deep shade of pink beneath the mask. “That just came out- i wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry-“

Your giggles cut his sentence short. And easy as that, Keegan’s brain buffered. Nothing in that head of his.

He watched you lean down and grab his cup. You took out your pin and made some scribbles on the side. With a small smile, you handed the cup back to him.

He looked down, and he smiled like his dreams came true. Your number was on the cup. “In case you’d like to tell me more like things.”

Keegan stared at the cup then back at you. He hated the stupid smile that was on his face. He felt like a teenage boy that for the first time, wasn’t rejected.

“Tomorrow,” he stated while tilting the cup, “i’ll be telling you so much more.”