Mission#1: Combat and Cafe's

Chapter One: Matcha Mistakes Solei Margareth Cruz Rivera believed three things in life. First, matcha was superior to coffee. Coffee gave her the jitters and made her stomach turn if she drank more than one cup. Matcha, though? It was her warm hug in a cup. Smooth, earthy, and just sweet enough to trick her brain into thinking everything was okay. It didn’t shout at her like coffee did, it comforted her. She needed comfort more than ever lately. Second, clumsiness was part of her charm. She said it to herself like a mantra. Every time she dropped her highlighter, spilled her drink, or tripped over her own foot in public, she’d just smile and laugh it off. Better to pretend it was cute than admit she was actually falling apart most of the time. And third, cute boys only existed in fiction. The ones with the slow smiles, soft laughs, and “I only have eyes for you” energy? Nope. Not in her world. They lived inside the books she read when she couldn’t sleep, or the K-Dramas she binge-watched on weekends. Real-life boys were either too distracted, too taken, or too busy trying to graduate like she was. She didn’t mind. Or so she thought. It was a warm Friday afternoon, and Café Solana had become her little bubble away from the chaos. It was where she went to think, to breathe, to not panic about exams. The place was cozy but never too crowded, and the staff already knew her order. She didn’t even need to say it anymore: iced matcha latte with oat milk and extra whipped cream. Sweet and cold, just like the kind of peace she longed for. She sat at her favorite corner table, the one with the best lighting and a view of the street outside. Her things were spread around like she lived there: thick textbooks opened to complicated diagrams, her trusty laptop which is barely surviving with a cracked sticker on the cover, and her tote bag with a stethoscope peeking out like a sad, tired ribbon. She was supposed to be reviewing for a quiz. Anatomy again. She had studied the word peritoneum at least five times and still couldn’t explain it if someone asked her out loud. “Focus, Solei,” she whispered to herself, highlighter poised in the air like a sword. “Fail this and Mom will make you study at home.” And honestly, that might’ve been worse than failing. Studying at home meant curfews, no WiFi after 9 PM, and being asked every ten minutes if she’d eaten. Her mom meant well, but the house was just too loud, too full of distractions. And if her mom ever saw her grades drop again, she’d be grounded faster than she could say stethoscope. So she leaned in closer. Her back hurt, her eyes were tired, and her drink was already halfway gone. But she had to push through. She was about to highlight a particularly important section, something about the abdominal cavity, when a shadow passed over her table. She froze. Someone was standing there. She looked up slowly, and everything in her brain came to a crashing halt. Standing in front of her was a guy. Not just any guy. He looked like he walked straight out of a w*****d fantasy—the kind where the bad boy turns out to have a soft side and deep trauma. He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing camo pants and a black shirt that hugged his frame a little too perfectly. Dog tags hung loosely around his neck and glinted under the soft café lights. But his eyes. His eyes. They were green. Not the brownish-green that only shows up in sunlight. No, this was bright, striking green. Like grass after rain. Like a forest in a dream. She stared. And the only thought that filled her head was, Wow. He’s hot. Like, unfairly hot. Was he part-foreign? A soldier? A model? What was he doing here? More importantly... was he lost? Or… was this a prank? Please don’t let this be one of those social experiments on t****k. I swear, if someone jumps out with a camera… “Uh,” she said, trying not to choke on her own breath. “Can I help you?” He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he did something. He pointed with his lips. A small, subtle gesture toward the counter. Then toward her table. She followed his gaze and saw it, her phone, sitting next to a single coin change from her drink earlier. “You mind?” he asked. That was all. But her brain short-circuited. Did he mean… kiss? Was this one of those hidden camera pranks where strangers pretend to flirt? Her heart started racing. Her mouth opened. And panic did what panic always does—it made her say something stupid. “I—I have a boyfriend!” she blurted out, way too loudly. “Excuse me!” She didn’t. Not even close. The last guy who texted her only wanted help with their group project. The stranger raised one eyebrow. His expression didn’t change much, but something in his eyes flickered. “Look,” he said, voice calm, even a little amused. “I just need the coin. I forgot my wallet. I’ll pay you back.” Silence. Heavy, thick, face-burning silence. Solei’s ears turned red. “Oh my god,” she whispered, both hands flying to her face. “I thought you were—never mind.” She reached for the coin and shoved it toward him, flustered beyond saving. Her pen rolled off the table, and her matcha wobbled dangerously. He chuckled. Not mockingly. It was low, soft, like he was genuinely amused. “Thanks, Matcha Girl,” he said. And then he walked off like it was nothing. Ordered his drink. Paid. Sat two tables away. Not close enough to talk, but close enough that she could hear the ice clinking in his cup when he took a sip. Matcha Girl. She buried her face in her notes. She would never recover from this. She wanted the floor to swallow her whole, or at least her overpriced latte to knock her unconscious so she could forget the last five minutes ever happened. But still, she peeked. He was just… there. Sitting. Calmly scrolling on his phone like she hadn’t just declared a fake boyfriend in his face. And worse? She found herself wondering what his name was. Why he was wearing dog tags. If he was always that calm—or if she’d actually made him smile. Because she swore, for a second, his lips had curved just a little when he walked away. Solei stared at her notes. The word peritoneum swam in front of her eyes. All she could really think was… Who the heck was that guy? And why did she already want to see him again?