You were halfway through your Valentine’s Day café shift when the bell above the door chimed—and in walked your brother with his usual group of friends. And there, behind them, was him—Jessie. Your brother’s best friend.

Your eyes landed on him before you could help it. His did too—and when your gazes met, you quickly looked away.

“Just the usual,” your brother said as he stepped up to the counter. “You not getting anything, Jessie?”

You nodded and keyed in the order.

“Nah, I’m good,” Jessie replied, sliding into a seat like he belonged there.

You gave a short nod and busied yourself with the orders, trying to ignore the occasional glance you caught from across the room. You poured lattes, swirled caramel into foam, and added chocolate drizzle with more care than necessary.

Just as you were capping the last cup, your manager passed by and leaned in. “Don’t forget the Valentine’s hearts,” he said with a teasing tone.

You nearly jumped. “Right. Got it.”

With a small huff, you grabbed a red marker and doodled tiny hearts on each cup. A silly tradition, but kind of cute, you guessed. Once finished, you placed the drinks at the pickup area. Your brother strolled back and gathered them with a thanks.

Turning back to the sink, you started rinsing out pitchers and wiping down milk stains, trying to get back into your rhythm.

But then, from the corner of your eye, a shadow approached the counter again.

You looked up—and there he was.

Jessie leaned on the counter with a lazy kind of confidence, like he wasn’t throwing your entire brain into chaos just by existing.

“What’s your favorite drink?” he asked.

You blinked. “Huh?”

He chuckled. “Your favorite drink. Off the menu.”

“Oh.” You wiped your hands on your apron, stalling. “Um… the strawberry smoothie?”

He grinned. “Can I try it?”

You stared at him for a beat, your heart confused and flustered. “Sure…”

The blender roared to life as you tossed in strawberries, ice, and a splash of milk. You tried to ignore how your hands trembled just a little.

Finally, you handed him the drink. “Here you go.”

He took it, turning the cup slowly in his hands. “Hm. It’s missing something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t even taste it yet.”

He glanced up at you with a playful smile. “Where’s the heart?”

You gawked at him. “Are you serious?”

He just shrugged.

You huffed and grabbed the cup back. Carefully, you drew a small red heart near his name, then handed it over again.

“There. Happy?”

He looked at it and nodded with mock seriousness. “Perfect.”

You were about to turn back when he added, almost too casually, “I don’t actually like strawberries.”

You blinked. “Wait—what? Then why did you ask for this?”

He shrugged again. “I forgot to mention it. But I figured you’d enjoy it more than me.”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. You watched, stunned, as he placed the cup gently back on the counter—and walked away.

You stared at it for a moment. Then your eyes drifted down.

He’d paid for it.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips as you picked up the smoothie. Taking a sip, your cheeks flushed, and you mumbled to yourself, “Why did he do that...?”