Where Our Tides First Collide

Chapter Ten

I woke up to sunlight spilling across my face, warm and too bright for how heavy my eyes still felt. My phone was half-buried under the pillow, buzzing faintly with a notification.

12:17. Great. I was already late.

I threw off the blanket, my hair sticking out in every possible direction, and hurried downstairs. The smell of toasted bread and freshly brewed coffee met me halfway, making my stomach growl. I’d forgotten to eat dinner before going to the party last night.

Mom was at the counter, flipping through a magazine. She looked up when I grabbed a piece of toast and a banana.

“You’re up late,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “How’s life in the new house?”

I bit into the banana, stalling for a second. “It’s… good so far.” And I meant it. For once, things didn’t feel like they were slipping out from under me.

“I like it here,” I added, softer this time. “I just hope we don’t have to move again anytime soon.”

She gave me that guilty look, but didn’t say anything. I grabbed my bag, tossed the banana peel in the trash, and headed for the door, my heart already thudding faster at the thought of walking into the café late.

By the time I got there, the bell above the door let out its cheery little chime, which somehow felt louder than usual.

“Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty,” Jamie, our manager, said from behind the counter. I muttered something about traffic, even though we both knew I lived five blocks away.

The café surprisingly didn’t have any customers, sunlight spilling through the big windows and catching in the steam rising from cups on the counter. I tied my apron, ready to disappear into the rhythm of taking orders and wiping tables, when Jamie clapped her hands together as if she’d been waiting for this moment.

“Alright, everybody, quick heads-up!” she called, pulling the other baristas closer. “We’ve just confirmed that we’re officially sponsoring the Summer’s End Music Festival this year.” She looked around like she was waiting for our reaction.

There was a collective gasp from the team, the kind you hear when news is equal parts exciting and terrifying.

Jamie grinned. “It’s the biggest event of the season. Live bands, dance floor, food trucks. And guess who’s running the main drinks booth?”

My stomach did a little flip. The Summer’s End Festival wasn’t just big—it was the event. The kind people talked about all year, the kind that made summers feel like they meant something.

And now, knowing this would be my last day here before I moved on to university, it felt even heavier. I wanted it to be perfect, memorable, the kind of day that would stick with me long after the sun set on Coronado Beach.

Jamie clapped her hands, breaking my thoughts. “Okay, team! Big news means big preparation. We need new drink combinations for the festival—something fresh, something fun. I want you all experimenting, testing flavors. Don’t hold back”

I felt a spark of excitement at the idea, my nerves twisting into anticipation. A challenge like this made everything feel more alive.

“And,” Jamie continued, leaning closer with a mischievous grin, “we’ve got a chance to join the live band for the event. Anyone willing to perform?”

Before I could even think, my hand shot up. My pulse picked up. I didn’t know why I volunteered so fast it just felt like the right thing to do.

Almost immediately, I felt movement beside me. “I’ll play guitar,” Steven said, his calm confidence settling into the space like it always did. I glanced at him, surprised. He actually knew how to play? That just made the idea of performing together feel…less scary.

Jamie clapped her hands again. “Alright, drinks first! Let's get creative, throw in flavors, textures, even little surprises. Taste-test everything. You never know what might become the crowd's favorite.”

I grabbed a tray of ingredients, my fingers brushing against the lemons and fresh mint. I could feel the slight tremble in my hands, half excitement, half nerves.

Steven leaned over the counter, watching me with that calm, easy expression he always had. “Need a hand?” he asked.

I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “I think I can manage… but you can help taste-test.”

He smirked. “That’s what I’m here for.”

We started experimenting, pouring syrups, squeezing citrus, and shaking ice into glasses. I tried to concentrate, but every time I glanced at him, my focus wavered. The way he moved, effortlessly precise, made the counter between us feel smaller than it was.

“Too sour,” I muttered, taking a tentative sip of one combination.

“Needs more mint,” Steven said, leaning closer to stir it. His arm brushed mine, and I felt a spark I tried to ignore.

We laughed when one drink turned out disastrously; its way too sweet, sticky syrup dripping down the side of the glass. “That one’s a disaster,” I said, tossing it into the sink.

“Or a masterpiece in disguise,” Steven teased. “Don’t give up on it yet, we have plenty of time before the event.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. Somehow, working together like this made the morning feel lighter, easier. For a few minutes, the nerves and stress of the festival faded, replaced by the simple rhythm of creating and teasing each other, the kind of energy that made summers feel endless.

When Jamie peeked over, she grinned. “Looks like you two are a team already. Just don’t burn the café down before the festival, okay?”

I laughed, glancing at Steven. Somehow, even with all the chaos, it felt like today might be one of those rare days that sticks in your mind for a long time.

Then suddenly he leaned closer, and I froze for a second. His fingers gently brushed near my lips, removing a tiny smudge I hadn’t even noticed.

“Got it,” he said quietly, his tone calm but careful, like he didn’t want to break the fragile moment.

I blinked, caught between embarrassment and a strange flutter in my chest. Why was I feeling like this over a tiny speck of dust? My mind raced—don’t overthink it, it’s nothing, just a friendly gesture. But my stomach betrayed me, twisting into knots I couldn’t quite name.

He didn’t pull away right away, just stayed close for a second longer, like he was making sure I noticed. My ears felt warmer, and I became painfully aware of the way sunlight caught the edges of his hair, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the rich aroma of the drinks.

I shoved my hands into my apron pocket, hoping my flustered face didn’t give me away. Focus, Amelia. It’s just Steven. Just Steven. Of course, this is all just casual to him. But even as I said it in my head, I couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at my lips.

And for the first time today, amidst the clatter of cups and the chatter of baristas, it felt like a tiny perfect pause, like the rest of the world had quieted just for this single, impossible little intimate moment.

The bell above the door jingled, pulling me out of the quiet. Steven moved to the counter, slipping effortlessly into his role. A new customer had arrived, and just like that, he was charming, patient, and in control. I couldn’t help but watch, my mind still half-turned inward, replaying the moment he’d brushed that little speck from my lips. Even now, it made my chest tighten in the most ridiculous, impossible way, and I had to look away before he caught me staring.