Mia didn't know what possessed her to climb the stairs to Lucas Rowe's apartment.
Sure, she'd agree to meet him for coffee, but in retrospect, that seemed like the worst decision she'd ever made. As she reached the top step, she froze, her hand hovering over the doorbell like it had somehow become a button of fate. A deep breath filled her lungs, but the panic was too strong.
This was a bad idea. What if he was weird? What if he was 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 weird, like the kind of weird who only drinks iced coffee and wears socks with sandals?
But before she could turn around and flee back to the safety of her bookshop, the door opened.
And there he stood.
Lucas Rowe.
His dark sweater fit perfectly against his broad shoulders, making him look like he'd stepped out of one of the artsy indie films Mia had spent too many late nights binge-watching. His hair was ruffled in that way that made him look like he'd just rolled out of bed–and if she was being honest, it made him look even more attractive than he had any right to be. But it was his eyes that always caught her off guard. They were an unsettling shade of gray, like storm clouds waiting to break, and they locked onto her like he was measuring the very fabric of her being.
"Hey," he said, his voice low and warm. "You made it."
Mia blinked, trying to push past the nervous flutter in her chest. She hadn't been expecting him to sound so... welcoming. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as she thought.
"Yeah, uh, coffee," she managed, her voice cracking slightly. "You said ten minutes."
His lips twitched, just barely, as though trying not to smile at her awkwardness. "I meant the invitation. You're the one who showed up early." He stepped aside, motioning her to come in.
Mia hesitated. The apartment was quiet, too quiet. She'd always imagined it being more... 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺. Dark curtains, bookshelves filled with ancient-looking volumes, and the faint smell of coffee grinding in the background. Instead, it was warm and inviting, filled with sunlight spilling through tall windows. A far cry from the grim energy he projected when they first met.
"Make yourself at home," he said, his voice still holding that oddly friendly tone. "Coffee's already brewing."
She stepped inside, glancing around as he led her toward a small, minimalist kitchen. There was something about the place that felt simultaneously serene and lived-in, like he had moved in just recently, but had already made it his own.
"You live here alone?" Mia asked, half out of curiosity and half to break the awkward silence that was settling in between them like a heavy fog.
Lucas's eyes flickered toward her, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "I'm not a cult leader if that's what you're asking." He turned back to the coffee machine, apparently choosing to pretend her question had been less weird than it sounded.
She chuckled, relieved. "Fair. So, uh, you brew your own coffee? Seems... domestic."
"I don't trust the coffee shop around here," Lucas replied, pulling two mugs from the cupboard. "Too much foam. Not enough coffee." He filled both mugs, the rich aroma of dark roast filling the air. "I'm assuming you drink it black?"
"I do," she said, moving to sit at the small dining table. "I mean, I can drink it with cream or milk, but black is definitely my go-to."
He handed her one of the mugs and then sat across from her, taking a slow sip of his own. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, like he was still trying to figure her out.
Mia swallowed hard, her heart thumping louder than she cared to admit. This felt wrong. This was wrong. There was no reason for her to be here, no reason for her to be sipping coffee with him like they were old friends or–God forbid–𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. She needed to clarify the situation. She couldn't let this accidental flirtation spiral into something she couldn't control.
"So," she started, setting her mug down carefully on the table, "about that voice message—"
Lucas raised an eyebrow, clearly not surprised. "You can blame the caffeine, if that makes you feel better."
"No," Mia said quickly, shaking her head. "I wasn't—what I meant was, I didn't mean to send that. It was for my friend, Emily. I—" She trailed off, suddenly feeling like a complete idiot. "I didn't mean for it to go to you."
He nodded, his expression unreadable. "That's why I didn't respond right away. I assumed you were trying to flirt with someone else. Maybe even your cat."
Her cheeks flushed. "You—what?"
He shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee. "It's not like you've made any effort to hide the fact that you're... 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨."
Mia stared at him, unable to tell if he was joking or if there was a hint of something deeper in his words. His face remained neutral, though, and the lack of emotion only made her more self-conscious.
"You're not mad?" she asked, half-expecting him to lash out at her for such a ridiculous mistake. It was a natural response, right? Irritation, annoyance, possibly even something bordering on anger. "You know, for me, um, sending that... message."
Lucas didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked at her in a way that made her feel like he was seeing her for the first time–𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 seeing her. "You're lucky I'm not easily offended."
Mia blinked. "Lucky?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Some people would've taken it the wrong way. But I'm not some people." His voice softened, just the slightest bit. "If anything, it was refreshing."
She blinked again, her breath catching in her throat. Was he–?
"Look," Lucas said, setting his mug down. "We're both adults here. I'm not going to pretend this is some casual, normal situation. But you apologized, and I'm not mad. If anything, I think it's... kind of funny."
Mia blinked, still processing the idea that he wasn't angry. It felt so surreal that she couldn't wrap her head around it. The last time she'd done something this embarrassing, she'd ended up hiding in her apartment for a week. But Lucas? He just... 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘰.
"Well, that's a relief," she said, feeling her nerves start to loosen.
"You don't need to apologize anymore," Lucas added. "But here's the deal—I'm not the kind of guy who wants to make a big deal out of things. If it's awkward for you, just say it. We can pretend it never happened."
Mia let out a breath, relieved. "Yeah. I think I'd like that."
"And if you want to make it up to me," Lucas said, leaning back in his chair, a glint of mischief creeping into his eyes, "maybe we should have a... pretend date?"
Mia stared. "What?"
"A fake date. You know, so you can make up for your accidental flirtation with me. You 𝘥𝘰 owe me, after all."
She blinked. Was he serious? Was this some kind of... joke?
"Okay, wait," she said slowly. "Hold on. Are you suggesting that we fake date? Like–𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 to be a couple?"
Lucas leaned forward slightly. "That's the idea."
Mia could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, but at the same time, something indside her twisted–maybe it was curiosity or maybe the insane idea that this would be hilarious. "Why would we do that?"
He shrugged. "Why not? It's not like you have anything to lose."
