Brewed Feelings

If that espresso machine at Brew Haven hadn’t hissed at me one more time, I would’ve gotten a restraining order against it. I slammed the metal portafilter into the machine with a click, trying to stifle the impatience clawing up my spine. The campus café was absolutely crawling with college students whose faces were all a mix of exam-induced panic and cheap vanilla syrup. I gave a huff, wiping some espresso grounds from my arm and adjusting the frayed fabric of my apron. At nineteen, drowning in a sea of university classes and working thirty hours a week just to afford tuition, sarcasm was practically my superpower. “I need an iced matcha, extra foam, Noah!” My coworker, Leo, yelled over the din of the café, shoving a plastic cup down the counter toward me. “Coming up,” I muttered, flipping the switch on the espresso maker. In the corner, behind a towering wall of textbooks, my best friend, Maya, caught my eye and gave me a sharp tap-tap-tap on her watch. Ten more minutes. Only ten more minutes, I reminded myself, before sliding the finished matcha across the counter to a grumpy customer. Just as I turned back around, the bell above the door jingled, announcing another patron. The murmur of the café didn’t die down, but the sudden hush that fell over the room spoke volumes as soon as the man pushed his damp black hoodie off his shoulders. Twenty-three-year-old multi-billionaire Ethan Hart looked like he’d fallen off the pages of a high-fashion magazine. He wore a dark designer hoodie that cost probably cost four times what I paid for my entire semester’s worth of classes, though he did an admirable job of trying to disguise his wealth. His dark eyes found mine instantly, a sharp flicker of irritation flashing behind them. Classic Ethan. “Reyes,” he drawled, stepping up to the counter. In a place filled with rowdy students, his baritone voice somehow still carried an air of unnecessary formality. I capped the matcha in my hands and turned to give him my best ‘I’m-so-annoyed-I-could-suck-lemons-for-a-week’ glare. “Welcome to Brew Haven,” I said with a tight smile. “Are we gonna order something real today, or are you just here to ruin the local economy?” I tossed a meaningful glance at the line of students waiting patiently for their turn. Ethan smirked, a soft, almost hesitant smile tugging at his lips. As usual, he was somehow in a place where sarcasm was not just tolerated but expected. “I’m here for a highly-specific corporate consultation,” he said deadpan. “Tell me, Noah… how do coffee beans feel when they’re late for work?” I blinked, my hand tightening around the bottle of cleaning liquid in my grip. “What?” “They get grounded.” His expression didn’t change as he said it, his lips parting in a small, almost nervous smile. A similar expression crossed my best friend’s face as she buried her nose in her hands, silent laughter shaking her shoulders. Beside her, Leo nearly choked on his own spit. With a soft curse, I turned back to Ethan. “That was a five out of ten, at best.” “Tough crowd,” Ethan murmured, tapping his fingers absently against the counter. “How about this, then. Why did the espresso keep checking its watch?” “Ethan, I swear to god, I am in the middle of a rush-” “Because it was pressed for time.” “I’m going to kill you,” I groaned, turning a deep shade of pink as I leapt across the counter. “You run a tech empire, why are you in a college coffee shop telling nineteen year olds bad puns?” “Because it’s a twenty-first century pun,” he said smoothly, his eyes locking onto mine. “And I’m doing it because you look like you haven’t slept in a week, Reyes. I’m here to try and brighten up your day.” “My day is perfectly fine without your corporate condescension, thank you,” I snapped, turning my back to him. I reached for a clean ceramic mug and quickly prepared his usual order – a quad-shot Americano with two ice cubes for immediate consumption. When I set the steaming mug down in front of him, my elbow gave a sharp knock against the edge of the counter. Ethan barely reacted as he reached for the cup, his large hand coming to rest against my knuckles. I inhaled sharply, eyes widening as I stared at the space between his thumb and index finger. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight through my spine. His grip was firm but warm, a steady pressure that made my heart pound in my ears. For once in my life, I found myself tongue-tied and speechless. The ridiculous remark that had been bouncing around in my head suddenly failed to come out. Ethan’s lips twitched into a lopsided smirk as he studied my expression, the usual playful glint in his eyes now replaced with something far more intense. “I’ll get you to laugh eventually, Noah,” he said softly, leaning in until only I could hear him. “Even if it kills me.” Without another word, he lifted his hand from my wrist and dropped a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the counter. He turned on his heel, disappearing into the stormy night. I stood frozen in place as my pulse hammered wildly in my ears. Heat rolled across my cheeks as I stared at the spot where his fingers had been only seconds before. My wrist still tingled, the pressure of his touch sending a strange warmth through my veins. “Oh my god,” Leo breathed, staring at the hundred-dollar bill in stunned silence. “Noah, he is so bad at flirting. Your face is the color of a ripe strawberry.” “Shut up, Leo,” I muttered, scrubbing at my cheek with the back of my hand. “He’s just an annoying customer.” As soon as I said it, the back office door swung open, revealing our café manager, Karen. Her face was ashen, her hands shaking as she held up a thick, black-bound contract. “Noah,” she began, her voice trembling, “we… we just got bought out. A corporate acquisition. A tech conglomerate called Hart Industries bought our entire local chain.” “What does that mean for us?” Leo asked, frowning. Karen swallowed hard, her Adam’s apple bobbing up and down visibly as she looked at me. “They’re opening up a brand new corporate kiosk downtown tomorrow morning,” she said quietly. “Right in the main lobby of Hart Industries. There is, however, one rather… eyebrow-raising detail in the contract.” She gestured for me to come over, handing me the paper and pointing out a fresh addition at the very bottom of the document. “They specifically requested you by name to oversee the deliveries on the top floor. You start tomorrow morning.” I slowly turned my gaze to the typed words on the page, staring at the familiar letters that spelled out my name.