"The hot ones are back." Dorcas nodded towards the table in the corner, widely known at Mugs as The Best Study Table. Lily looked up from her tablet, which she hiding under the counter to finish yet another last minute portrait for class. The table was crowded with four absurdly attractive men, and spread over with what looked like all their collective textbooks.

"They're probably terrible."

"You're just prejudiced against attractive people."

"I just think that attractive people tend to face fewer obstacles in life, which often makes them act like spoiled, entitled assholes."

"Can you shut up and just look at them?"

"Yeah."

Lily's favorite of the hot ones, the one with warm brown skin, awful (beautiful) hair, and infectious laugh, stretched out his too-long legs into the aisle, and ran a hand distractedly through said hair. Lily gave an audible sigh. Dorcas cackled.

"I think you need to introduce yourself to Daddy Long Legs over there."

Lily snorted. "I don't know if I'm laughing at your suggestion or the fact that you just called him Daddy Long Legs."

"I know darling. I'm brilliant. And he's perfect for a struggling artist like you. I'm like, forty percent sure he's a med student."

"Forty percent?"

"Yes. I saw him twice with a microbiology textbook bigger than my thighs, but then like four times with something by Shakespeare, so I can't be sure."

"You are a stalker," said Lily, laughing. "And seeing him twice with a biology book doesn't make him a med student."

"He also left notes about something called a Krebs cycle on a napkin, and that sounds medical."

"You've been inspecting his napkins? Why are you stalking my poor Daddy Long Legs?"

"For you! All for you! Why can't you just appreciate me?"

Lily rolled her eyes, turned back to her portrait, and tried not to look up too often at Daddy Long Legs.

I can't believe I'm calling him that. He's too hot to be compared to a fucking spider, Lily Evans.

After approximately two minutes of trying not to look up at him, she looked up anyway, and found herself face to face with the man himself.

He was even more beautiful up close: far, far too tall, with his ridiculous hair was standing on end, pointing in every direction. He had hazel eyes under his tortoise-shell framed glasses, and a dimple low on his right cheek, which he was currently showing off spectacularly by beaming down at her.

"Uh," said Lily, brimming with eloquence.

"Can she help you?" said Dorcas, helpfully.

"Can I get a pumpkin spice latte?"

"I don't know, can you walk to a Starbucks?" It spilled out of Lily's mouth before she could stop herself.

Daddy Long Legs burst into laughter. "Is that a no, then?"

Lily rolled her eyes. No amount of superficial beauty could overcome bad taste. "That's a no."

"How about just a latte, then?"

She forced on a smile and looked up into his perfect, beaming face. "Coming right up! Your name?"

"James." James. She resolved not to remember it.

She was halfway through making it when she got another order for a regular latte, from a kind girl who gave her a good tip. Lily spent time on her drink, pouring an intricate flower into the foam. Good customers deserved good service.

She set both lattes on the order counter, called them out to the room, and returned to the register to pick up her assignment. She was just fixing Dorcas's hair in the portrait when he came to pick up his coffee. And by then it was too late: the lovely girl had picked up the wrong drink, and James was beaming at the flower in his mug.

She had no choice but to flee to the baked goods counter and hide behind Dorcas. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Um. I made Daddy Long Legs a drink. By accident."

Dorcas looked at her as though she'd grown two new heads. "Did he order the drink?"

"Yes."

"And did you make the drink right?"

"Yes," said Lily.

"And you're running away from him because…"

"Because nothing! I just am!"

Dorcas looked at the hot boy, still admiring his foam art, and smirked.

"Did you draw something naughty in his coffee? Well done, Lily. I didn't know you had it in you!"

"No!" said Lily, horrified. "I drew something pretty. And it wasn't even for him! He picked up the wrong drink!"

"But was it phallic?"

"No, you moron, it was a flower."

"An orchid?"

"Just a normal flower!"

Dorcas sighed.

Lily hated the morning shift. It was frantic and busy, and hardly anyone stayed to drink their coffee; the tables sat either empty or taken by middle aged professors with their newspapers. The only moment of quiet was the time before they opened, when she was too tired to appreciate it and could do nothing but anticipate with anguish the four hours that she would have to spend frantically remembering orders and placating fully grown adults who got visibly angry when their favorite pastry was unavailable.

There was none of the warm, hazy, mother-hen feeling of afternoons spent bringing caffeine boosts to students trying to cram absurd amounts of information into their brains. And there was no Dorcas either—Dorcas refused point-blank to take any morning shifts, because it "interfered with her lifestyle" of staying out until four a.m. and getting up at noon.

At ten, when the rush was over and the coffee shop empty except for the morning regulars ( a group of rather loud and inappropriate old men who sat playing scrabble over at the Best Study Table), Lily leaned forward over the counter and closed her eyes.

One more hour, and I can go home and sleep.

The door tinkled open, and she jerked upright. James, she thought, and was immediately annoyed at herself for not having forgotten his name like she'd planned.

He glanced at the Best Study Table, and his face fell as he saw that it was occupied.

"If you want to wait, they'll be gone in like twenty minutes."

"What?"

"The old guys at the table you like. They're here every morning but they clear out by 10:30."

"Oh. Thanks," he said with a smile. "Yeah, I'll wait. I need to spread my stuff out today. I have a huge exam next Monday and it's already kicking my ass."

He leaned forward to get his wallet out of his back pocket, and Lily caught a whiff of his hair: soap, and something pine-y. It was the first thing she'd smelled all day that wasn't coffee. She had to stop herself from leaning in and giving it a good sniff.

She was really not awake enough to be working. She couldn't go around sniffing men with bad taste in coffee. Even if they were otherwise gorgeous and friendly and smelled incredible.

"I'll have a latte," he said after a pause.

She smiled. "Coming right up!"

James waited at the table nearest the counter, his legs stretched out into the aisle again, reading an article with a photo of a sailboat at the top of the page.

Lily drew a sailboat into the foam, with little white clouds and a caramel sun.

He beamed when she brought her masterpiece to him. "This is amazing! Did you seriously just draw this?"

She grinned back helplessly. "Yeah."

"Do you do this for everyone? Or am I just your favorite?"

Lily flushed. "Um. No. I just do this whenever I need to stay awake." I just do this whenever I'm being weird and obsessed.

"I hope you're always sleepy when I'm in here, then."

Lily had to hurry back to the counter before he could look properly at her face, which was now approximately the color of a cherry tomato, and clashed terribly with her hair.

He was back the next morning. "Latte?" she asked, and he nodded.

"To-go this time."

She drew an ocean wave, its crest thick with foam.

"Okay, so you're an actual artist, right?"

She grinned. "I'm an art student."

He nodded. "Are you specializing in coffee-foam art?"

Lily laughed. "I'm specializing in graphic design. The coffee art is really just a hobby."

"If only all of us were as good with our hobbies as you," he sighed wistfully.

"Are you rubbish at your hobbies?"

"Only because I don't have time to practice properly. Did you know that med school is kind of time consuming?"

Point to Dorcas, thought Lily.

"I suppose that's a fair excuse. What's your terrible hobby then?"

He grinned. "Magic."

And then he turned and walked off, latte in hand.

"Hey your admirer is here!" announced Dorcas when Lily showed up for her Saturday evening shift.

"He's not my admirer."

"He admires your foam art."

"That's completely different."

Nevertheless, Lily glanced over at the Best Study Table. Sure enough, the boy was there, with his legs in the aisle and his books spread out.

"He's studying microbiology. I'm now 60% sure he's in med school," said Dorcas in a satisfied tone.

"How do you know what he's studying?"

"I just looked at his notebook when I brought him his order, relax." She grinned. "He seemed disappointed that I wasn't you."

Lily flushed. "He was not."

"Was."

"You're right about the med school thing though."

"Now who's stalking?"

"It's not stalking if he offers the information himself. He told me the other day."

"He's been done with his drink for a while now," said Dorcas, craning her neck out to get a good look. "I think he's been waiting for someone to get here to order another one."

"Please stop stalking my foam art admirer."

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna steal him from you, you saucy minx."

James was at the counter within five minutes of Lily's arrival, making Dorcas smirk all over the damn place. "Latte?"

"Please. But there's something else first." He leaned toward her, resting his forearms against the top of the counter. Lily resisted the urge to take a good look sniff, but she couldn't resist leaning forward a bit too.

"What's that?"

He grinned. "Pick a card! Any card."

He spread a deck of them over the counter with a flourish.

"Am I about to witness you doing your terrible hobby?"

"Excuse me, you are about to witness some incredible magic. Please, have some faith."

Lily laughed, and picked a card from the line: a Jack of Hearts. How fucking cliche am I?

"Now sign it," said James, handing her a black Sharpie.

"And ruin your card?"

"Don't worry about that. Having your name on it will only make it more valuablef to me."

Lily felt the flush down to her toes. She signed the card, and suddenly came to a realization. He's into me. He is definitely into me. So what was the point of playing it safe?

She wrote her phone number too, just under her name, and then added a note: "You're stupidly gorgeous. Please go out with me."

"Okay, slide it back into the deck, anywhere you like," said James.

She obliged.

"And now, tell me, what is your favorite drink here?"

She grinned. "The Earl Grey."

He gasped theatrically. "A tea drinker! Working in a coffee shop!"

"Alas, you've found me out."

"Alright, fine, Earl Grey. That's eight letters, right? So I'm just going to shuffle this deck…"

He shuffled.

"...and then count out eight cards…"

He counted.

"...and the next card in this deck will be yours. Are you ready?"

She nodded, her stomach twisting. In a second, he'd know what she'd written. In a second, she'd have officially asked out the sexiest man she'd ever met.

He turned over the card: the Jack of Hearts. And on it, in a black scrawl that was nothing like hers, was written: "You've stolen my heart. Go out with me? xx James"

She stared at it for a long moment, hardly daring to breathe. And then she looked up into James's face, looking more anxious than she'd ever seen him before, and somehow that was even more irresistible than his standard overconfident charm. And then suddenly she was reaching up to his neck and pulling his face towards hers.

She was kissing James. She was kissing James. She was winding her hands through his terrible hair, and breathing him in like he was oxygen, and did he really just gasp into her mouth a little?

She was winded when they broke apart. James straightened up again, but only a little—he buried his nose in the hair on top of her head.

"So was that a yes?"

Lily laughed. "Do you still have the card I wrote on?"

He step back and tisked at her. "Now now, I can't go around giving away my secrets every time a pretty barista asks me to."

Lily rolled her eyes, still grinning. "Well I suppose you'll just have to find a way to turn the card back to see my answer then."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Oh really?"

"Yes. Now please let me get to work. I can't just neglect my job every time some magician wants to show off, no matter how charming he might be."

His parting smile, all dimpled cheek and laughing eyes, left her breathless all over again.

She closed up the shop on her own at two in the morning. The air outside was frigid; she stuffed her hands into her pockets and burrowed into her coat hood. Her phone buzzed with a text, and she drew it out of her pocket.

It was from an unknown number: "Finally! I thought you would stay in there all night."

She froze, panicking. Her phone buzzed again: "Sorry, that was extremely creepy. This is James. Turn around."

She spun, and he was standing by the bike rack, rocking back and forth on his feet to stay warm.

"Have you been here this whole time?"

"Not the whole time."

"Why?"

Even in the dark his smile was breathtaking. "I thought we'd go out for breakfast. Since you practically begged me. You know, because I'm stupidly gorgeous."

She laughed, and her breath fogged the air between them. "It's two in the morning."

"Ah, well we stupidly gorgeous folks don't need to take the hour into account. We're too gorgeous for that nonsense," he informed her as he took her hand.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

"Nope!"

"It's a good thing I've stolen your heart. I'll have to hold it hostage until you stop."

He pressed his lips to her fingers. "Go on then. Keep it."