The first time you met Jennifer Morrison, she was behind the counter of a small coffee shop tucked between a bookstore and a record store—the kind of place that smelled like roasted beans and rain-soaked pavement.

You didn’t know her name yet. You just knew she was way too gorgeous to be the one writing your name on a paper cup.

“What’ll it be?” she asked, smiling just enough to make your heart trip.

You stammered out your usual order, and she tilted her head, pen poised. “You sure? You look more like a vanilla latte kind of person. Or maybe… something with a little spice.”

You blinked. “Are you profiling my coffee order?”

“Just guessing personalities,” she teased, scribbling something on your cup. “Let’s see if I’m right.”

When you got your drink a few minutes later, you noticed the name on the cup wasn’t yours—it said Mysterious but sweet. And she was watching from the counter, biting back a smirk.

That became your thing.

Every morning, you came in for coffee; every morning, Jennifer made it a game. Your cups were covered in little notes—Dreamer with bad timing, Cute when flustered, Definitely not a black coffee person (prove me wrong).

One rainy afternoon, you decided to turn the tables. You wrote your name on a napkin, along with:

You talk a lot of game for someone who doesn’t know my favorite drink.

You slid it across the counter when you ordered. She read it, laughed softly, and shook her head. “Challenge accepted.”