"Hot chocolate?" the barista announced, scanning the café for the drink's owner.
Emma rose from the seat she'd taken at a nearby table, leaving her open laptop behind for just a moment as she approached the counter. When she reached out to retrieve her drink, she bumped hands with someone who had come to stand next to her. As she turned to apologize, she quickly found herself drowning in a shade of blue she didn't seem to have a name for. And when she finally came up for air, she got a better look at the owner of that beautiful blue gaze.
He was tall, just enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to look up at his face. His dark hair had fallen into his eyes, forcing him to use that exact moment to run his fingers back through it, taming it back into perfect place. He wore a red v-neck with a black leather jacket, dark jeans, a pair of black boots, and small earrings in each ear, the entire get-up together reminding Emma of a modern day pirate. A very hot modern day pirate.
"It appears we ordered the same beverage," he said, his thick British accent and crooked smile making him, if possible, even more attractive.
"It seems we did," Emma replied with a dazzling smile of her own.
"Oh, wait," the barista announced, drawing their attention away from each other. "Says here this one has cinnamon."
"That's mine," Emma said at the exact same time as the mystery man. She turned back to face him once more, unable to stop the slight blush from rising in her cheeks. "I thought I was the only person who liked that," she admitted as his smile widened and he reached up to scratch absentmindedly at his ear.
"I thought the same," he replied before gesturing from Emma to the barista with a mock bow. "You take it. I insist. I'm sure mine will be ready shortly." She looked him up and down, considering turning down his offer and asking that he take it, but at that moment, a second barista offered up another hot chocolate with cinnamon. They each reached out to finally take their drinks, and Emma started to turn back towards her table, before the man offered his hand for her to shake. "Killian Jones," he said with yet another bow. As Emma held out her hand, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss against the back of it.
"Quite the gentleman, aren't you?"
"Always," he replied with a smirk. "Now that you know my name, might I have the honor of knowing yours?"
"Emma Swan."
"Well, Emma Swan, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance and to meet someone with whom I share a rather rare quirk. You appeared to be in the middle of something moments ago, so I won't interrupt you any further. Enjoy our beverage," he said with a quick wink as he turned to walk away.
"I was just…" she said before pausing slightly, unsure of exactly why she called him back. But the second his gaze met hers again, she knew she'd made the right choice, even if she didn't understand what it was that drew her to this complete stranger. "…writing. I'm sort of a writer." His eyes lit up with what she recognized as fascination.
"A beautiful profession," he replied, drifting slowly over towards her table where he took a seat across from her laptop, waiting for her to sit, too. "What do you write?"
"Songs, actually." Suddenly, the small smile he'd been wearing since their first encounter grew, his teeth bared in a display of uninhibited joy that Emma found infectious, though confusing. "What?" she asked, her own smile stretching her lips until she felt it might reach past her face.
"I'm a singer," he replied. "Or I was a singer. About a year ago, I took a break, left England, and came here."
"Why?" Emma blurted, unable to contain her curiosity. Killian looked at her, his blue eyes darkened so that they were nearly black.
"My heart wasn't in it. I felt as if a part of me was…was missing. I came here to seek out inspiration or to find something else that I truly love." He paused for a moment, his eyes passing over her as if reading her like a book. "Perhaps you and I were destined to meet, Emma." Her name left his lips like its own song, and she suddenly imagined what it might be like to hear him sing the words she had written.
"Perhaps," she answered softly, holding out her hot chocolate cup. "To chance encounters in a café."
"Our first single?" he teased, tapping his own cup against hers as she couldn't help but laugh.
"Our first single," she affirmed, raising her drink to her lips as he did the same. He then placed his cup back down on the table, raising his ocean blue eyes to meet hers once more as she found herself drowning again with absolutely no desire to be saved.
"You know, Emma, I think we're going to make quite the team."