Espresso in The Rain

The next evening, Noah found himself back at The Roasted Heaven, as if the universe had decided he was incapable of studying anywhere else.

Or maybe he was just an idiot.

He hadn't meant to come back so soon, not after the way Perth had teased him yesterday. But the second he walked through the doors, the warm scent of coffee wrapped around him like a familiar embrace. The quiet murmur of conversation, the soft clatter of cups—it was all too comforting to resist.

And then, of course, there was Elias.

Noah spotted him behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, forearms on full display as he focused on making a drink.

Noah absolutely did not stare.

He just… observed. For a second.

It was fine.

He shook himself out of it, heading straight for his usual corner. If he just buried himself in his studies and avoided unnecessary interaction, he could pretend yesterday's weird tension didn't happen.

He had barely opened his laptop when a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

"You're back."

Noah closed his eyes for a brief moment before looking up. Elias stood there, holding a cup of coffee, that damn smirk playing at his lips.

Noah exhaled. "I need to study."

Elias set the coffee in front of him. "And yet, you're already distracted."

Noah scowled. "Because you're talking to me."

Elias chuckled, sliding into the seat across from him. "Maybe you should learn to focus."

Noah shot him a glare but didn't push him away. He was too tired for whatever game Elias was playing.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound between them the occasional scratch of Noah's pen and the quiet sip of Elias drinking his coffee.

It should have been peaceful.

But Noah could feel Elias watching him.

Every time he shifted in his seat, every time he chewed on his pen cap—Elias' gaze was there.

It made him hyper-aware of everything.

The way their knees almost brushed beneath the table.

The way Elias tapped his fingers lightly against his cup, slow and thoughtful.

The way Noah's heart should not be beating this fast.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "Do you actually have work to do, or are you just here to annoy me?"

Elias smirked, leaning forward slightly. "What if I just like watching you squirm?"

Noah's breath hitched.

He was going to kill this man.

Or himself. One of the two.

Instead of responding, he grabbed his coffee and took a large sip—only to nearly choke when the flavor hit his tongue.

He blinked down at the cup.

It was exactly how he liked it.

"You—" Noah looked up at Elias, suspicious. "How did you know my order?"

Elias shrugged, far too casual. "You come here almost every day. It's not that hard to figure out."

Noah swallowed, something unspoken settling in the air between them.

Elias had been paying attention.

And that was dangerous information to have.

Before Noah could figure out how to respond, the front door swung open, and Santa strode inside, scanning the café. The second his eyes landed on Noah, his lips curled into a slow, knowing grin.

"Oh, this is interesting," Santa said, sauntering over to their table.

Noah groaned. "Not you too."

Santa plopped into the seat beside him, nudging him with an elbow. "You didn't answer my texts, and now I find you having intimate study sessions with a hot café owner?"

Elias smirked. "You think I'm hot?"

Santa winked. "Obviously."

Noah thumped his forehead against the table. "I hate both of you."

Santa ignored him, turning his attention fully to Elias. "So, are you two, like, a thing now? Or is this still in the unresolved sexual tension phase?"

Noah let out a strangled noise. "Santa!"

Elias, the absolute menace that he was, simply leaned back in his chair. "I guess that depends."

Santa's eyebrows shot up. "On?"

Elias turned to Noah, dark eyes gleaming. "On whether or not he's ready to admit he likes me."

Silence.

Noah's heart nearly stopped.

Santa grinned.

"Oh, this is so much better than I expected."

Noah buried his face in his hands, praying for the ground to swallow him whole.

He was never coming to this café again.

(Except, of course, he would. Because, like an idiot, he knew he wouldn't be able to stay away.)