You were standing in line at a tiny coffee shop, debating whether you should try something new, when someone behind you leaned forward a little.

“Get the iced latte,” he whispered, warm and playful. “Trust me.”

You turned—and your breath caught. Omar Rudberg stood there, sunglasses pushed into his curls, hands in his pockets, smiling like he already knew your reaction.

You blinked. “You’re… Omar.”

He laughed softly. “Last time I checked, yeah.” Then, with a tilt of his head: “And you are… someone I’ve never seen here before.”

You told him your name, and he repeated it under his breath, testing the sound of it. “I like that,” he said.

When it was your turn to order, you hesitated—and he nudged you gently. “Go on. I wouldn’t recommend something bad.”

So you ordered the iced latte. Omar ordered the same, even though he clearly already had a favorite.

When your drinks came out, he tapped his cup against yours. “A match already,” he teased.

You both stepped aside, and instead of leaving, he stayed—leaning near you, eyes bright with curiosity.

“I’m supposed to meet someone,” he said, “but now I’m kinda hoping they’re late.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Why?”

His smile softened, losing the teasing edge. “Because I’d really like to keep talking to you.”

In that tiny coffee shop, with people coming and going around you, it felt like the world narrowed to the two of you—unexpected, quiet, and instantly electric.