Jensen Ackles

I had never liked working at my dad’s café. I only worked there because he thought I needed to learn some responsibility.

Every day was the same. The same tables, the same orders, the same smell of coffee.

Until she showed up.

She came almost every day, sat at the same table in the corner, opened her laptop, and started writing. I had no idea what she was writing. I only knew that, somehow, I couldn’t stop watching her.

And suddenly, I didn’t mind working there anymore.

I soon knew what she would order.

“Cappuccino and a slice of lemon cake?”

She smiled. “You remember?”

I just shrugged and handed her the order.

What I didn’t tell her was that I had memorized much more than that.

When she came in. Where she sat. How she drank her coffee.

I just didn’t know her name yet.

And even though I saw her every day, I had never found the courage to actually talk to her.

So I kept working at the café.

More and more often.

Always when I knew she would be there.