Chapter 24

The little cafe tucked away in the backstreets of downtown L.A. felt like your own secret world – the kind of place no one would expect to find a pop star with her girlfriend on a rare afternoon. Tucked away between a flower shop and a tiny bookstore, it was quiet, sun-drenched, and always smelled like cinnamon and roasted espresso beans.

You held the door for Dani, and she stepped inside with that usual grace she wore so well – sunglasses low on her nose, oversized hoodie, leggings and that grey beanie she always stole from you.

“Still our little hideout,” she murmured as her eyes scanned the space.

You both knew the staff recognised you by now – it was impossible not to, even dressed down – but no one ever made a scene. That’s why you kept coming back. No cameras. No flashing lights. Just her hand in yours, tucked under the table, where no one had to see.

Dani tugged your hoodie sleeve as you reached the booth. “Window seat or hidden corner?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You planning on making out with me?”

“Not if you keep asking dumb questions.”

You both laughed, choosing the booth by the window, the sunlight catching on her cheekbones like it was in on the secret of how stupidly in love you were.

*

After ordering your usual drinks – iced americano for you, extra-creamy vanilla latte for her – you sank into the plush seat across from her. But Dani, of course, couldn’t help herself.

“I’m stealing yours again,” she warned, already reaching over for your cup when it arrived.

You swatted her hand, mock-offended. “Why even order your own if you’re just going to drink mine?”

“Because mine’s for the aesthetic,” she said, lifting her own cup with a dramatic flourish. “Yours if for survival.”

You rolled your eyes. “You mean ‘caffeine.'”

“Same thing.”

She took a sip of yours, then hummed. “Yup. Still better than mine.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You just like tasting my mouth by proxy.”

She choked on her laugh, nearly spilling her drink. “You’re unreal.”

“And you love it.”

She smiled – that soft, small smile that wasn’t for cameras or crowds – and slid her hand across the table until her pinky brushed yours. You didn’t say anything. Just let your fingers find each other, casually entwining like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Outside, people passed on the sidewalk – rushing somewhere, headphones on, living lives that didn’t know the world had stopped in this booth.

Because it had stopped. For you. For her.

For this.

*

Dani stirred her drink slowly, twirling her straw. “You ever think about what it’d be like if we weren’t… you know… us?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Like… no music, no industry. I’m just a regular person. And we meet in a place like this for the first time.”

You leaned forward. “I’d still flirt with you.”

She snorted. “You’d probably ask for my number before I even finished my coffee.”

“No,” you said, mock-thoughtful. “I’d write it on your napkin before you even asked for cream.”

“Smooth.”

“Deadly.”

She was smiling again, but there was something thoughtful in her eyes. “I like our weird little life. But sometimes it’s nice pretending it’s normal.”

You reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear – fingers lingering longer than necessary.

“This is normal,” you said. “You, me, coffee. You stealing my drink. Me pretending I don’t love it when you do.”

Dani looked at you, and for a moment, the air between you shifted – charged, thick with the kind of tension you couldn’t drink away. The kind that made your pulse skip and your mind wander to thoughts far less wholesome than lattes and hand-holding.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said quietly.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to kiss me in public.”

“I am.”

She didn’t stop you when you leaned in. But instead of a kiss, you just rested your forehead against hers for a few quiet seconds. Breathing her in. Letting it simmer.

“I love this version of us,” she whispered.

You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Same.”

Then – smirking – you added, “Even if your drink order is a walking red flag.”

She gasped. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said.”

“You know what?” she said mock-offended, standing up with a dramatic flare. “I’m going to the counter to buy a pastry. And I’m not sharing.”

“Lies,” you called after her, grinning. “You’ll come back with two. Like always.”

She turned mid-step and winked. “Don’t get too cocky.”

*

Sure enough, five minutes later, she returned with two pastries – a strawberry croissant and a lemon tart – placing one in front of you like it was a peace offering.

You smirked. “Told you.”

She slid the tart closer. “Shut up and eat.”

You took a bite, humming exaggeratedly. “Mmm. Tastes like victory.”

She leaned across the table and swiped a bit of cream off the side of your pastry with her finger – then licked it off slowly, eyes locked with yours the whole time.

Your heart genuinely skipped.

“Didn’t say you could do that,” you murmured.

“Didn’t ask.”

“You’re gonna kill me.”

She grinned. “Then I’ll die with you. But like… cutely.”

*

You stayed long after the cups were empty and the sun dipped just a little lower in the sky. The conversation turned quieter, deeper – music, memories, silly dreams you’d never say out loud to anyone but her.

At one point, she was sitting beside you in the booth instead of across from you, her head tucked under your chin, your arm slung around her shoulders.

No cameras. No managers. No stage.

Just her heartbeat, your hand in hers, and the taste of vanilla still lingering on her lips.

———-

Hope you guys liked this one 🙂