Espresso in The Rain

Noah never considered himself the type to develop habits so quickly, but by the end of the week, The Roasted Haven had somehow become a part of his daily routine.

It wasn't intentional—not exactly. He told himself it was just convenient, that the coffee was good, that it was quieter than the crowded campus cafés. But deep down, he knew that wasn't the full story.

It was Elias.

And Noah hated how easily that realization settled in his mind.

"You've been acting weird lately."

Noah blinked up from his laptop. Across the table, Santa was watching him with narrowed eyes, stirring his iced coffee absentmindedly. They were sitting in one of the common areas on campus, a shaded outdoor patio where students gathered between classes.

"Weird how?" Noah asked, feigning ignorance.

Santa leaned in. "You disappear during lunch. You don't complain about coffee anymore. And you've been—" he paused, then smirked, "—smiling to yourself like a lovesick idiot."

Noah scoffed, looking back at his screen. "You're imagining things."

"Uh-huh." Santa sipped his drink, clearly unconvinced. "Let me guess. This has something to do with a certain coffee shop owner?"

Noah froze for half a second, which was long enough.

Santa's grin widened. "Oh my god, it is about him."

"It's not—"

"Noah," Santa cut in, setting his drink down with exaggerated flair, "as your best friend, I am deeply offended that you didn't tell me about this sooner."

"There's nothing to tell."

Santa tilted his head, unimpressed. "So you just happen to go to the same café every day, and it has nothing to do with the hot guy behind the counter?"

Noah didn't answer, which only made Santa more amused.

Before he could argue further, Noah's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. A message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Took a wild guess that you don't save numbers unless forced. It's Elias.

Noah's breath hitched slightly before he realized—Santa is still staring at me.

Quickly, he typed back:

Noah: How did you get my number?

Elias: Magic.

Noah rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, another text came through.

Elias: Or maybe I just asked last night when you were half-asleep from caffeine overdose.

Noah frowned. Did he?

Santa leaned over, trying to peek at his screen. "Who's texting you?"

"No one," Noah said too quickly, locking his phone.

Santa gasped dramatically. "It is him, isn't it?"

"Drop it, Santa."

Santa just grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Fine, fine. But you are telling me all the details later."

Noah sighed, already regretting ever letting Santa into his life.

---

Later that evening, as Noah found himself at The Roasted Haven yet again, he had to admit: maybe Santa wasn't entirely wrong.