"Bitter and Sweet"

The bell above the café door chimed softly, blending with the low hum of acoustic music filling the air. Courtney Valdez didn't need to look up to know someone had entered. She memorized patterns—the hesitant footsteps of new customers, the confident stride of regulars, the impatient tapping of those who didn't want to be there. But this one? Heavy. Precise. Controlled. She glanced up and instantly wished she hadn't. A man in a perfectly tailored suit stood just inside the doorway, scanning the café like he was assessing a business deal instead of deciding where to sit. His expression was unreadable—sharp jaw, straight posture, eyes that didn't linger on anything long enough to care. Definitely not her usual customer. Courtney wiped her hands on her apron and forced a polite smile. "Welcome. What can I get for you?" He approached the counter without hesitation. "Black coffee." Her eyebrow twitched. "That's it?" "Yes." No greeting. No smile. No warmth. Courtney tilted her head slightly. "You don't look like someone who drinks coffee for the taste." He met her gaze then, his eyes cool but curious. "And what does that mean?" "It means," she said, leaning casually against the counter, "you look like someone who drinks it because you have to. Not because you want to." A pause. Then, surprisingly—"You're not wrong." Courtney blinked. Well, that was new. She turned to prepare his order, but something about him lingered in her thoughts. There was a quiet tension in the way he stood, like he carried the weight of something heavier than deadlines and meetings. "Name?" she asked. "Renz." She scribbled it on the cup. "Courtney," she replied, sliding the coffee toward him. "Since we're exchanging minimal information." For a split second, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Gone before she could be sure. He reached for the cup but didn't drink immediately. Instead, he looked around the café again—at the warm lights, the mismatched furniture, the soft laughter of customers. "This place," he said, "is inefficient." Courtney let out a short laugh. "Good thing it's not trying to be a corporation." Another pause then he took a sip and immediately frowned. "That bad?" she asked, crossing her arms. "It's… strong." "That's called flavor." "It's excessive." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. "You ordered black coffee. That's on you." For the first time, his lips almost curved. Almost. "I'll remember that." "Good. I don't do refunds for bad decisions." He nodded once, as if filing that away then he left just like that. No goodbye. No thank you. Just the faint scent of expensive cologne and an unfinished cup of coffee left behind on the counter. Courtney stared at it, shaking her head. "Rude," she muttered. But as she picked up the cup, her fingers paused. He hadn't finished it which meant he'd probably be back and for some reason, that thought didn't annoy her as much as it should have.