Nia arrived at the café Mira had texted her about, dressed to impress in a fitted cream blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers, her hair in soft waves. She looked effortlessly stunning—because if she had to suffer through a blind date, she might as well look gorgeous doing it.
She checked her phone. 7:05 PM. The date was supposed to be at seven.
By 7:15, her legs were crossed, fingers tapping impatiently on the table. What kind of guy makes a girl wait this long?
Annoyed, she huffed. Five more minutes. Then I'm out.
With a bored expression, she scrolled through her phone when a deep voice startled her from above.
"Miss Mira Turner?"
Nia blinked, slowly raising her head with a barely audible, "Yes…"
Her eyes bulged the moment she saw the man standing before her.
No. No way.
Panic flashed across her face. She ducked her head instinctively, hiding her face behind her hair.
"Sorry, wrong person," she said quickly, her voice trembling.
But the man tilted his head, inspecting her face with mild confusion. "I'm sorry I'm a little late… Wait. Are you—Nia Turner?"
Her stomach dropped. Slowly, as if surrendering to fate itself, she raised her head. "Yes, Professor Carter."
Professor Carter, dressed in a simple navy button-up and rolled-up sleeves, took the seat across from her with an unreadable expression. "What's going on? Why are you here?"
Nia cursed Mira in her head with every synonym of betrayal she knew. Mira, I will end you.
Carter's brow arched. "Excuse me?"
Nia snapped upright like a soldier. "Ah—nothing. I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you. I'm Mira Turner's cousin. She…uh…got caught up with work. So I came to…apologize on her behalf."
What am I even saying?
Carter blinked. "Okay."
Silence. Awkward. Painful.
"Professor Carter, then…excuse me." Nia stood quickly, trying to make her escape, but her heel caught the leg of the chair. She stumbled—right into disaster.
But before she could hit the ground, a strong hand caught her by the back. Her eyes widened as she felt the warmth of his palm steadying her, holding her with ease.
She looked up. Carter's face was so close. Her heart skipped.
When did Professor Carter become so… handsome? she thought, dazed.
"You okay?" he asked calmly, his hand still steady behind her.
"Oh—yes! Yes." She straightened up and quickly put some distance between them, her cheeks warming. Great. Now he thinks I'm a walking menace. Again.
He glanced at her, expression neutral, but something flickered in his eyes. "Have you had lunch?"
"No. I mean—yes. I mean…no," Nia stammered.
A faint twitch of a smile touched his lips. "Why don't we have it?"
Nia could only nod, too shocked to come up with a proper excuse.
They sat again, and the waiter came over. Carter ordered for both of them like it was the most natural thing in the world. Calm, confident, efficient.
Nia sat across, suddenly unsure if she should make eye contact or melt into the floor.
The meal began in awkward silence, but Carter, ever the professor, kept the conversation strictly professional.
"How are your research hours going?"
Nia forced polite smiles, pretending to chew slower so she wouldn't have to answer too quickly.
But every now and then, Carter would roll up his sleeves, or lean forward with his hands clasped on the table, revealing veins and forearms that made Nia's brain short-circuit.
This is not fair. Why does he have to look like he models in the side?
She nodded a little too enthusiastically at a question she hadn't heard, nearly knocking over her glass.
He caught it mid-fall. "Careful."
Oh God, he even saves water now? What is he, a superhero?
"Right. Sorry," she mumbled, cheeks burning.
Carter remained composed, sipping his coffee. "Still as chaotic as ever, Miss Turner."
She pursed her lips, trying to come up with a comeback. But all she could think was:Mira, you better start running.
After some awkward forks scraping plates and a few too many water refills, Nia was convinced the meal would end with her burying herself in a ditch and never returning to class again.
Carter glanced at her empty plate. "Didn't expect you to finish everything."
She blinked. "Are you judging me?"
His lips twitched. "No. Just impressed."
Nia stared. Did Professor Ice Cube just… joke?
She opened her mouth to respond, but his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then sighed quietly and placed it face-down. His brows knit together briefly before his expression smoothed out again.
"You okay?" she asked, surprising even herself.
Carter looked up, a little surprised too. "Yeah. Just…family things."
The answer was vague, but his tone had softened. And just like that, something shifted. He wasn't just her stern professor anymore—he was a real person.
"You know," he added after a moment, "you're not what I expected."
She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"I thought you were just another reckless student playing pretend for attention," he said bluntly, stirring his coffee. "But you're… more than that."
Nia blinked. "Is that supposed to be a compliment or a warning?"
He smirked slightly. "Both."
Nia narrowed her eyes. "You're so mysterious, Professor Carter. It's suspicious."
"And you're not mysterious at all," he replied, resting his chin on his hand. "You're like a firecracker in the middle of a library."
She gawked. "That sounds like slander."
"That sounds like you," he said, not even blinking.
Nia wanted to throw her napkin at him. Or maybe her shoe. Or maybe—
The waiter arrived with the bill, and Nia reached for her bag.
But Carter stopped her. "I got it."
"No, wait—"
He slid his card in smoothly. "It's fine. Consider it an apology."
"For what?"
"For making you think you had a boring date."
She paused, stunned.
"You… knew it was a date?"
He shrugged. "Eventually. You're not exactly good at covering lies, Miss Turner."
"I hate you," she muttered under her breath.
"Liar," he replied coolly, standing up.
As they walked out of the café, Nia looked up at him, heart skipping for no reason at all.
Before they parted ways, he added, "Next time, just be honest. You're interesting enough without pretending."
And then he left her standing there on the sidewalk, wind catching her hair, heart pounding for reasons she didn't want to admit.
She muttered under her breath, "Mira, you little witch… what have you done?"
Meanwhile Amara stood in line at the campus café, tapping her fingers lightly against her phone as the scent of roasted beans filled the air. She needed a quick caffeine fix before her study group, and nothing sounded better than a cold, sharp iced Americano.
"One iced Americano and one vanilla latte!" the barista called out, placing two cups on the counter.
Amara stepped forward just as someone else did.
Their hands brushed.
"Sorry—" she began, then froze.
He looked up too, blinking behind wire-rimmed glasses.
"Amara?"
Her stomach flipped. Ryan. Her high school crush. The one who sat two rows ahead in physics and smiled at everyone like it was second nature.
"Ryan?" she said, half-laughing, half-panicked. "What are you doing here?"
"I transferred this semester," he grinned. "Didn't think I'd run into anyone I knew this fast."
They both glanced at the drinks.
"I ordered an iced Americano," Amara said.
"Me too," Ryan frowned, looking at the cups. "One of these is a vanilla latte."
Amara lifted one cautiously and took a sip. Her face twisted. "Definitely not mine."
Ryan chuckled and switched drinks. "Okay, either this place is testing our patience, or fate just gave us a reason to talk."
Amara smiled, the awkwardness melting slightly. "Let's hope it's the second one."
Ryan tilted his cup toward her in a toast. "To messed-up coffee orders and second chances."
She clinked her cup against his, feeling her nerves settle into something more playful. For a moment, the noise of the café faded, and all she noticed was how his smile still did that same stupid thing to her heart it used to do in high school.