As the glass door swung open, the bronze bell let out a clear ding-dong. I bowed my head to adjust my skirt, the mint-green fabric rippling gently at my knees, while the sweat in my palms left faint marks on the coffee cup. Through the steam curling from the cup’s rim, I watched Lu Chuan weave past the greenery-lined booths, tiny snowflakes clinging to the collar of his light gray sweater. When he slid the menu toward me, his cuff brushed the back of my hand, carrying the scent of cedar and coffee.
The moment the waiter set down our drinks, the latte art spun on the amber liquid like a blooming rose. I stared at the cup, transfixed, until the soft tread of footsteps on the wooden floor and the melody of piano music drifting from the corner drew my attention. Jack suddenly stood up and returned with a slice of Basque cheesecake dotted with blueberries. “The owner said this new dessert is meant to be shared with…” He paused, his ears turning pink, “…someone you like.”
As the fork clicked against the plate, the tangy-sweet jam melted on my tongue, but sweeter than the cake was the flutter of his lashes casting delicate shadows as he bowed his head.
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