The corner shop smelled like stale bread and old incense, a mix that clung to the air like a memory. She didn’t mind it. She liked the way the sunlight trickled through the dusty windows, glinting off rows of faded cans and jars. The bell above the door jingled as she handed a customer their change, her sweet smile lingering even as the next person stepped up.

But then came the shuffle of heavy boots, the distinct low hum of a laugh she knew too well. The old man behind the counter tensed, his eyes narrowing into slits.

“Hoo Rat!” Mr. Lee barked, his voice crackling like old paper. “You scare off customers. No good for business!”

Rafael didn’t flinch. The nickname rolled off him like water. Hoo Rat. It was how Mr. Lee’s broken English twisted hood rat, though the bite in his tone left no room for confusion. Still, Rafa only smirked, gold tooth flashing.

“Relax, viejo. Just checkin’ on my girl.”

She felt the heat rush to her cheeks. Rafa’s arm slid casually around her waist, his calloused fingers brushing the soft fabric of her apron. He always did this—swaggering in like the whole block bowed to him. And maybe they did. People whispered his name in alleyways, eyes darting over shoulders. But to her, he was just Rafa. The boy who brought her pastelitos when she worked late, who kissed her forehead like she was something precious.

“No loitering!” Mr. Lee snapped, waving his broom like it would chase Rafa out. “Hoo Rat, go!”

Rafa only chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

“I’ll see you after your shift, princesa,” he murmured, planting a kiss on her temple before swaggering out the door. The bell jingled, leaving only the tense silence in his wake.

“Tch.” Mr. Lee shook his head. “That boy… nothing but trouble.”

She didn’t argue. She just traced her fingers along the counter, the echo of Rafa’s touch still warming her skin. Trouble, maybe. But sometimes, trouble had a heartbeat.