Chapter 3-The coffee Shop Loop
909 Words
Ava
Ava told herself she wasn’t overthinking it.
It was just lunch. Just a friendly thank-you for returning his sketchbook.
And yet…
The next afternoon, she found herself standing in front of her mirror, holding two different scarves against her neck like she was auditioning for a fashion ad. She muttered something about the ridiculousness of it all, tossed both scarves onto the bed, and opted for her favorite camel coat instead. It was casual, comfortable — and, okay, maybe a little flattering.
She grabbed her camera bag out of habit, then set it back down. She wasn’t working today. She didn’t need the weight slowing her down or the temptation to hide behind the lens.
Ethan had texted her the address: La Petite Rue, a tiny bistro in a quieter part of the city. She’d looked it up online the night before, telling herself it was just to check the menu — not because she wanted to decode what kind of person picks a place with copper lighting and mismatched chairs.
By the time she arrived, the lunch crowd had thinned. Warm light spilled through tall windows, catching on wine glasses and the curling steam of fresh bread. Ethan was already there, leaning over the menu. He looked up when she walked in, and that half-smile appeared — the one she’d caught in glimpses but still couldn’t quite read.
“You made it,” he said, standing to pull out her chair.
“Of course,” she replied, settling in. “I wasn’t going to pass up free food.”
His eyes crinkled. “Glad to know my generosity is so appreciated.”
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Ethan
She had that easy confidence again — the kind that made people turn their heads without realizing it. Her hair caught the sunlight in shades of gold and chestnut.
They ordered — croque monsieur for him, a goat cheese salad for her, plus a bottle of sparkling water.
“You come here often?” she asked, glancing around.
“Sometimes,” he said. “It’s a good place to think. Or to avoid my office.”
She tilted her head. “What are you avoiding it for?”
He hesitated. “Endless meetings about projects I’m not inspired by. Lately it feels like… I’m just building boxes.”
“Fancy boxes,” she teased.
“Expensive, lifeless boxes,” he countered, and she laughed. It was the kind of laugh that filled the air without needing to be loud.
They talked between bites — about her latest shoot, his first architectural project, their favorite spots in the city. She told him about the hidden courtyard behind a laundromat that served the best cappuccino in town. He promised to take her to the rooftop of the Fairview Hotel, where you could see the river curve like a silver ribbon through the skyline.
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Ava
By the time the plates were cleared, she realized she hadn’t looked at her phone once. That almost never happened.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, studying her like she was part of the cityscape he’d been tasked with designing. “So, Ava the Photographer,” he said. “Do you ever end up in your own pictures?”
She smirked. “Not unless someone steals my camera.”
“That’s a shame,” he said softly.
Her pulse skipped, though she wasn’t sure why. “Why’s that?”
“Because the way you see the world… I imagine you’d make an interesting subject yourself.”
The air between them seemed to shift. Not awkward — just… charged.
She broke the tension by glancing toward the window. “Well, if you ever want to try, I charge by the hour.”
He grinned. “Good to know.”
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Ethan
After lunch, he walked her toward the subway station. The air had that crisp early-spring bite, and she wrapped her coat tighter.
Halfway there, they passed a narrow alley painted with a sprawling mural — abstract shapes in bright blues and oranges. Ava stopped, her eyes lighting up.
“This,” she said, stepping closer, “is the stuff I love. It’s alive. It’s imperfect. But it makes you stop and notice.”
He watched her as she tilted her head, taking it in. The wind caught a loose strand of her hair, and before he could think better of it, he reached up and tucked it behind her ear.
Her breath caught. Just barely.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It makes you stop.”
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Ava
They parted with an easy “see you soon,” but the moment stayed with her — the touch, the tone in his voice.
That night, lying in bed, she thought about how quickly people could start to matter. One week ago, Ethan Vale had been a stranger in the crowd. Now, he was a thread tugging at the edges of her thoughts.
It was exciting. And dangerous.
Because she knew how these stories went. They started with serendipity and laughter, but life had a way of reminding you that no matter how close you felt to someone, there were always streets between you.
Still, she couldn’t help wondering where this one might lead
End of Chapter 3
To be continued with chapter 4-
where Ava flips through Ethan’s sketchbook in more detail, and we start hinting at deeper layers in his past. That’s where the emotional foundation really starts forming.
- Writer
