The warm light from the café’s window bathed the table, and my phone buzzed for what felt like the tenth time. I was late for my shoot, but something held me here. I could feel her eyes on me, the quiet scratch of pencil against paper, as she tried to be subtle.

She thought I wouldn’t notice, but I did.

I sipped my coffee slowly, pretending to be lost in thought, though I was fully aware of her sketching me. Normally, I’d be rushing out, but today, I didn’t want to move. I wanted to see how it would end.

I shifted slightly, and out of the corner of my eye, saw her hand quicken, capturing every detail. It was almost flattering. I wondered what she saw—the light on my hair, the choker I always wore?

Another buzz. I ignored it.

Just a little longer, I thought. I wanted her to finish. To see the result of this quiet connection, even if she didn’t know I was aware of it.