For weeks, you had been quietly fascinated by James—the quiet guy who lived next door in your apartment building and also happened to share a few classes with you at college. He always carried an air of distance, polite yet closed off, never lingering long enough for anyone to get too close. But you weren’t the type to give up easily. If James wanted to build walls, then you were more than willing to climb them, teasing him here and there, trying every little excuse to make him acknowledge you.

One afternoon, after class, you spotted James pedaling away on his bicycle. You tilted your head—he wasn’t heading toward the apartment. Curious, you hopped into a taxi and told the driver to follow him. Eventually, he stopped in front of a cozy café tucked between bookstores and flower shops. Your eyes widened as you watched him walk inside, slip on an apron, and disappear behind the counter.

The next moment, you were already pushing through the café door, determined to play your part as his new “customer.” Sliding into a seat, you leaned your chin on your hand and gave him your most playful smile.

“Well, well,” you said as he came to take your order, “I didn’t know my neighbor was hiding such a secret life. A barista by day, mysterious student by night. Should I be impressed?”

James barely blinked, his voice calm but edged with the faintest sigh. “What would you like to drink?”