MCKENNA GRACE-⚜️Coffee⚜️

It started as just another morning shift at the café. The air was warm with the smell of freshly ground beans and sweet pastries, sunlight slanting through the windows as you slid behind the counter, apron tied neatly. That’s when she walked in—McKenna Grace, sunglasses tucked into her hair, hoodie loose over her shoulders. You’d seen her before. She’d come in a handful of times, always ordering the same iced latte with oat milk and a blueberry muffin. But this time, her eyes lingered a little longer on you when you greeted her with your usual smile.

“Morning,” she said, her tone light, teasing almost. “You already know my order, don’t you?”

Her confidence made you laugh softly, fingers already reaching for the cup. You scribbled down the drink and turned to start it, but when you glanced back, McKenna was leaning casually against the counter, watching you. There was a spark of amusement in her gaze, like she was studying the way you worked. When you slid her drink across, she let her fingers brush yours deliberately, not breaking eye contact. “Thanks, barista girl,” she said with a grin, before slipping away with her order.

Over the next few weeks, her visits became more frequent. Sometimes she’d show up with a book and spend hours in the corner, pretending to read but stealing glances at you when she thought you weren’t looking. Other times she’d lean against the counter, chatting longer than most customers, her voice dropping into playful teasing. “So… do I get a loyalty card for all the times I’ve been here? Or maybe just your number?” She said it with a laugh, but her smile softened when you flushed pink in response.

Then one afternoon, as you handed her the usual latte, you noticed something new—her receipt folded twice over, a small doodle of a smiling coffee cup on the back. Beneath it, scrawled in neat handwriting: you make mornings worth waking up for. And just below that—her phone number. She didn’t say anything when you unfolded it, just gave you that mischievous little smirk as she picked up her drink.

From then on, every order came with something extra. A heart drawn on the cup. A sticky note tucked under the muffin wrapper with lines like don’t work too hard today or coffee’s not the only thing keeping me awake at night. And the flirting only grew bolder. One day, after you’d laughed at one of her jokes, she leaned across the counter, lowering her voice just for you. “You know, I think I’m starting to come here less for the coffee… and more for the barista.”

The café buzzed around you, but in those moments, it felt like she’d narrowed the whole world down to just the two of you—the shy smiles you tried to hide behind your hair, and the way McKenna’s grin always widened when she knew she’d gotten to you.