You didn’t plan to wait for him outside the café.

You just happened to be there. Sitting on the steps. With his favorite drink in hand. Wearing his hoodie. At exactly the time he usually showed up.

Totally innocent.

When he finally appeared—five minutes late and smug as ever—you caught the exact moment his eyes landed on you. His smile was immediate and entirely too charming, the kind that made your stomach flutter even though you’d promised yourself it wouldn’t happen again.

“Wow,” he said, stopping in front of you, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like me.”

You blinked at him. “If you didn’t know that by now, I should really be trying harder to hide it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So you admit it.”

“I admit I like watching you scramble when I beat you at your own game.”

He laughed, that warm, easy sound that always made you want to smile even when you were trying to be unimpressed. He stepped closer, his knee brushing yours as he sat beside you on the step.

“You got me my favorite drink,” he pointed out.

“I owed you,” you lied.

“You never owe me anything.”

“I was bored.”

“You were thinking about me.”

You scoffed and looked away, but he knew that look—you always glanced to the side when you were trying not to grin.

“You really think this flirty thing works on me?” you asked, sipping his drink just to mess with him.

He looked at you like you’d just challenged him to a duel. “You tell me,” he said, leaning in until you could count every gold fleck in his eyes. “Because it really seems like you’re enjoying this.”

You opened your mouth—probably to say something clever—but the bell above the café door jingled, and out came two of your friends. They didn’t even try to be subtle. One whispered, “JUST KISS ALREADY!!” while the other nudged them and added, “They’re definitely together. There’s no way they’re not.”

You and he froze for half a second. Then turned to each other, deadpan.

“Should we correct them?” you asked.

He smirked. “And ruin the mystery? Nah. Let them wonder.”

“Oh, so we’re just encouraging this now?”

He shrugged, still close, still way too casual. “Honestly? I think you like it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your face felt warm. “You’re getting cocky again.”

“You like that too.”

You shoved him playfully, but he caught your hand before it could land. Held it for just a moment longer than necessary.

“I’m just saying,” he murmured, voice softer now, more dangerous, “if we ever did decide to date… we’d be kind of unstoppable.”

You didn’t answer right away. The street felt quieter, like the world had faded into background noise. You stared at him, at the way his expression turned serious at the edges, like he was testing something—maybe even hoping.

“You talk a big game,” you finally said, your voice low, playful. “But you haven’t even asked me out.”

He smiled. “Would you say yes?”

You gave a slow shrug, lips curving. “Maybe.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth, just for a second. “Tease.”

“Flirt.”

He stood, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans. Then held out a hand to you.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go make everyone even more confused.”

You took his hand. Of course you did. And as he pulled you to your feet, a tiny part of you wondered…

If they all already thought you were together— If he looked at you like that— If your heart kept skipping beats every time he smiled—

Maybe it wasn’t such a far-off idea after all.

Maybe you were both just waiting for the moment one of you finally said it out loud.