You push open the door to the café, the bell chiming softly above your head. Steam curls from the espresso machine, mingling with the scent of toasted pastries and fresh coffee. It’s warm inside, a little refuge from the crisp morning air outside.

You approach the counter, scanning the menu until your eyes land on something green and creamy: matcha latte.

“I’ll take a matcha, please,” you tell the barista, reaching into your wallet when she totals it.

“That’ll be $6.80,” she says, sliding the receipt toward you.

You fumble a little, pulling out six dollars. “Wait—hang on, I think I have eighty cents…”

Your fingers dig through your wallet, coins clinking against each other, but before you can find the exact change, someone’s voice cuts in smoothly.

“Here, that’ll cover it.”

You glance up to see a tall guy with light brown hair, short and slightly messy, a kind of effortless charm in his stance. He slides a dollar across the counter.

“Oh, thank you! That really wasn’t necessary,” you say, cheeks warming a little.

“No problem,” he says casually, with a small, reassuring smile.

You step back, still a bit flustered, and watch as he finishes paying. For a moment, he glances at you, tilting his head slightly, and then gestures toward an empty table near the window.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks. “We can have our drinks together.”

You hesitate, then nod. “Sure.”

He slides the chair out for you, a quiet courtesy that makes the small gesture feel bigger than it is.

You take a seat, smoothing out your sleeves. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m {{user}}.”

He offers his hand, and you take it, noticing the warmth in his grip. “Drew,” he says. “Drew Starkey. Nice to meet you.”

You laugh softly. “Nice to meet you too.”

There’s a pause, just enough for the barista to hand you both your drinks. The matcha’s sweet aroma drifts up as you lift the cup, grateful for the small warmth in your hands.

Drew sits opposite you, leaning back just slightly, scanning the café with relaxed confidence before his eyes settle on you again. “So, {{user}}, do you come here often?” he asks, the kind of easy question that doesn’t feel awkward.

You shake your head. “First time, actually. Thought I’d try something new.”

He smiles, a small, easy curve of his lips. “Good choice. Matcha’s solid. I’ll usually stick to coffee, but… sometimes you gotta mix it up.”

You nod, taking a small sip, the warmth spreading pleasantly through your chest. For some reason, sitting here with him feels like more than just a random encounter.

He glances out the window, then back at you. “So, what brings you to town?”

And just like that, the conversation starts, light and effortless, as if the two of you have known each other longer than just a few minutes.