It was another typical Tuesday morning, the scent of fresh dough and vanilla filling the air, the golden sunlight spilling through the window as you worked at your bench, kneading and laminating the dough for your perfectly flaky butter croissants. The rhythmic motions of your hands were almost second nature by now, your mind lost in the comfort of routine.

That’s when you heard the familiar chime of the shop bell, signaling a customer.

“One second!” you called out, dusting the flour from your hands onto your apron before turning toward the counter. But you already had a feeling who it was.

Sure enough, there stood Matt Sturniolo, leaning casually against the doorframe, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. His usual reserved expression softened slightly as he took in the warmth of the bakery, his eyes flickering to you like they always did first.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice low and a little raspy from sleep.

“Morning, Matt,” you said with a knowing smile, already reaching for a fresh cup. “The usual?”

He nodded but hesitated, his fingers drumming against the counter like he wanted to say something more. Instead, he glanced at the tray of unbaked croissants and smirked. “Bet those are gonna be gone in an hour.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “More like thirty minutes. You want me to set one aside for you?”

Matt shrugged, trying to play it cool, but you caught the way his lips twitched, fighting back a real smile.

“Yeah… that’d be nice.”

And just like every morning before, the quiet dance between you two continued. Unspoken words lingering in the air like the scent of fresh bread, waiting for the right moment to rise.

"So… got any new pastries for me to try?," Matt says with intrigue and a smile.