They walked side by side toward the café. Ethan had that relaxed, hands-in-pockets kind of walk. Daisy, meanwhile, was mentally trying to act normal. Casual. Chill. Totally not overthinking this at all.
“So… Daisy,” he said, glancing at her, “what do you actually do when you’re not spilling coffee all over yourself?”
She groaned, shooting him a look. “Wow. Already roasting me?”
He grinned. “Not roasting. Just... observing.”
“Well, your observations suck,” she muttered, then sighed. “I work at a corporate firm. Mostly client calls, writing long emails, sitting through longer meetings… pretending like I know what I’m doing with my life.”
“Same here,” he said, hands still tucked into his pockets. “Except I dropped the pretending part a while ago. Fully winging it.”
She chuckled. “Wait, really? Aren’t you in tech?”
“Yeah, consulting. I’m here for a two-week business trip. Helping a local firm untangle their system mess.”
She raised a brow. “You know what’s funny? I’ve worked with British clients before. But you’re the first one I’ve met in real life.”
“Well then,” he said with mock drama, “your life has officially peaked.”
She laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, but charming,” he replied smoothly.
She rolled her eyes again, though this time with a grin. “Honestly though, I didn’t think people actually talked like you do.”
He blinked. “Like how?”
“You know...” She cleared her throat, throwing on her best over-the-top British accent. “‘Would you like some wouu-tah?’”
Ethan burst out laughing. “Okay, that was offensive on so many levels.”
“And yet, painfully accurate,” she teased.
Ethan looked mock-offended. “Excuse me — we just say it properly. You lot are the ones skipping half the vowels.”
Daisy burst out laughing. “Oh my god. You even argue politely.”
“I’m British,” he replied with a shrug. “Politeness is genetic. It comes right after tea and mild weather complaints.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “I don’t believe this is real. A London boy in India, buying me coffee, sounding like a walking BBC documentary.”
He smirked. “Happy to be your cultural exchange of the day.”
They reached the café, and Ethan pulled open the door with a dramatic little bow.
“After you, Miss Daisy,” he said, voice smooth and annoyingly proper.
She stepped in, half-grinning, half-losing it inside. He was way too British… and way too charming. Honestly, she wasn’t prepared for this level of chaos in a button-down.
The smell of roasted coffee hit them like a warm wave. Familiar. Comforting.
And yet, somehow, it all felt... new.
They stood in line, the air buzzing with soft chatter and espresso machines.
“You know what?” she said, glancing at him. “I think this might be the first time I’m actually thankful for an awkward bench moment.”
Ethan leaned in just enough to make her heart jump. “Wait till you hear me say schedule. You’ll absolutely lose it.”
She choked on a laugh, elbowed him playfully, and tried not to melt.
And somewhere between “proper vowels” and shared caffeine, Daisy realized—
this might not just be a one-time thing.
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