Celine stood outside the university café, her fingers curled around her cup of hot chocolate. The late afternoon sun bathed the campus in gold, casting long shadows on the pavement. She spotted George inside, sitting by the window, drumming his fingers against the table with a nervous energy she hadn't seen before.
This time, she walked straight to him no hesitations, no mental rehearsals. Just the sound of her boots against the tile and the sudden tightness in her chest.
"You're late," he said, glancing up. His smile was small, but it reached his eyes.
"You're early," she shot back, sliding into the seat across from him.
A beat of silence. Then they both laughed, the tension breaking like ice cracking under warmth.
He pushed a cup toward her. "I got your favourite. Hazelnut hot chocolate, no cream."
Celine blinked. "How did you know that?"
"I pay attention," he said softly, holding her gaze. "Even when you think I don't."
Her heart skipped, then stumbled.
The café buzzed with the low hum of conversations and the clink of cups, but between them was a quiet space, charged with something unspoken.
"I've been thinking," George began, fiddling with the lid of his cup, "maybe we don't hate each other after all."
She smiled, slow and thoughtful. "Maybe we never did."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "I like this... thing we've got going. The late-night study sessions, the bickering, the shared playlists... you challenging every stupid thing I say."
"And you invading my space like you belong there," she added.
He chuckled. "Do I?"
Celine looked down at her cup, then back at him. "I don't hate it anymore."
Silence settled again, but it wasn't awkward. It was thick with meaning.
George reached out slowly and carefully and brushed his fingers over hers on the table. "Celine... I know I'm not exactly your type"
"You really aren't," she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.
"But I think I could be," he said, eyes serious now. "If you let me."
She stared at him, her heart beating loudly in her ears. Then, after a breathless second, she turned her hand over and laced her fingers with his.
"Okay," she said.
Just one word. But it carried everything hope, surrender, a new beginning.
Outside the café, students hurried past, but in that tiny corner by the window, George and Celine found something that felt a lot like home.
Something that felt a lot like love.