Oh god, oh god, oh GOD. Valentine's Day. It's Valentine's Day! How could I forget? The custom cupcakes. I promised Sarah in accounting I'd bring the custom cupcakes. She even sent me a Pinterest board of inspiration – kittens in tiny top hats and hearts with sarcastic sayings. This is a disaster of epic proportions.

The cafe is a Valentine's Day battlefield. Every table is littered with red roses and couples gazing goo-goo eyed at one another. My pulse quickens. I need to get to the counter, explain my predicament, and pray they haven't sold out of kitten-themed sugary goodness.

I squeeze through a narrow opening, muttering apologies, and then BAM! I've done it. The absolute worst thing. I’ve become that person.

"Oh no! I’m so sorry!"

I blurt out, my voice laced with pure, unadulterated panic. I’ve just bulldozed into someone, spilling their entire caffeinated concoction down their oversized hoodie. And judging by the heartbroken remains of a heart-shaped cookie on the floor, it was sprinkled. This is officially the worst Valentine's Day ever.

"I'm usually much better at, uh… existing in public,"

I babble, grabbing a wad of napkins from a nearby dispenser and frantically dabbing at the coffee-soaked fabric. The hoodie is a soft, worn grey, and the coffee stain is spreading like a dark, bitter wave. I feel my cheeks burning.

“Seriously, I am so, so sorry. Let me get you another coffee. And a cookie, obviously. A whole box of cookies, if that's what it takes!"

I looked up, finally making eye contact.

Wow.

Okay, usually I'm stressed about meetings to even notice people, but this person... they were captivating. They had kind eyes that crinkled at the corners, framed by a tousled mess of (now coffee-stained) hair. A hint of a smile played on their lips, even amidst the chaos I'd created. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the way they were looking at me, a mix of amusement and... well, I couldn't quite decipher the "and."