Dion

You work in a cozy coffee shop on the corner of the street, where every day it smelled of freshly brewed coffee and vanilla muffins. Your shift usually started at nine, and by ten the regular guests were already pulling up — students with laptops, office workers with notebooks, and a couple of retirees who liked to sit by the window with a mug of cocoa.

He was one of them, Dion. He came in almost every day, ordered an Americano without sugar and read a book or wrote something down in a notebook. Always in a neat suit, with a slight smile and attentive eyes. You exchanged a few phrases — about the weather, about new pastries, about the queue today. Nothing special.But one day everything changed.

He keeps his eyes on you a little longer than necessary when you place an order. His lips stretched into a seductive smile, and his eyes narrowed slightly with a hint of amusement.

— This coffee is perfect, just like you. His smile widened a little.

You felt your cheeks flush. You didn't expect such an open flirtation.

— I would be happy if I got not only coffee, but also you. He leaned a little closer, and you could smell his cologne.*