She sits in a back corner of the coffee shop. Waiting for him. There is a plain, white coffee mug sitting on the table in front of her. Red lipstick has transferred to the rim of it from her lips, but hardly any of its contents are gone and steam no longer rises from it. As more time passes, the frown in her forehead deepens.

He waits in line at the counter. Watching her. Where she is tensed and annoyed, he is relaxed, at easy. A grin tugs at the corners of his lips, which he knows will just infuriate her more. The waitress brings him his own coffee mug. She batters her eyelashes and flirts with him. He smiles at her, but it is not his famous, mischievous smile had been known to melt hearts a time or two.

Weaving through the tables and people wrapped up in their own world scattered throughout the room, he makes his way to where she is sitting. She crosses her arms tightly across her chest and glares at him. His eyebrows raise a hair, but the smile on his lips never falters. Finally reaching the table, he pulls out the chair across from her, conveniently between her and the door, and sits. She pushes her chair back angrily and starts to get up and leave. He reaches across the table, pinning her arm to it, before she can get farther than a few inches out of the chair.

“Sit.”

His tone is light and pleasant, but she knows him better than that. He is irritated and near the end of his rope. Because of her. Slowly, a coy smile starts to creep onto her own face. She sits back down in her chair and pulls it closer to the table.

“You do realize to just what extent I’m upset with you, right?”

He releases her arm and leans back in his own chair. The smile he has been holding in for so long is finally let loose. It speaks of mischief, friendly teasing, and winning. For a moment, her breath catches in her throat.

“Oh, I know. But I also know how to make you forgive me.”