Author's Note: Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic. Feel free to review, follow and favorite! Also, I don't live in the UK, so I am so sorry if I get things wrong. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Phil's POV

I have believed in miracles ever since I was young. Especially in the love department. Miracles were very real, and they could happen any second of any day. That is what I have always kept in my mind. I believed every word. However, as I was wiping down the espresso machine on a Thursday evening, I began to question myself.

When had I ever witnessed a miracle in real life? I was accepted into the University of York four years ago, and I had graduated with plenty credentials. But surely that didn't count for a miracle. It was a mixture of luck and brilliance on my part. Right? And it's not like I've ever even fallen in love. But isn't love the greatest miracle of all? How could I have such strong faith in something that I've never experienced myself?

I shook my head. I could contemplate the probability of the existence of miracles after my shift ended. Ah, yes. My shift. I was cleaning up behind the counter at The Grinder, the café I was a barista at. Where I forced myself to work nearly nonstop. For nine pounds an hour, though, it was an okay job. More than okay, actually. Multiple times I have tried convincing Mia, my boss and the owner of The Grinder, that she didn't need to pay me above minimum wage. I told her I could just get another job. She usually rolled her eyes and swatted me away, grumbling goodheartedly about how I shouldn't be complaining.

Does that count as a miracle? Probably not. It was just good pay for a 22 year old. But if that was just narrowed down to plain old luck, does that mean everything was just luck? Everything I had believed were miracles was just luck?

The clang of the bell on the door jolted me out of my thoughts. I plastered on a fake smile and stood up straight, ready to talk to the customer. I opened my mouth to greet the young man, but my breath caught in my throat. Standing in front of the entrance was, quite possibly, one of the most attractive people I have ever seen in my entire life.

Brown hair swept to the side, similar to my straightened fringe but opposite, paired with rich brown eyes. He was young, maybe a few years younger than me. He had a tall, thin frame, clothed in nearly all black. He wore an unzipped dark gray sweater over a black tee shirt and black skinny jeans, along with worn black shoes. White earbuds dangled around his neck, plugged into something in his pocket. He glanced around the café before stepping forward. Damn.

I cleared my throat and tried again. "Hello! Welcome to the Grinder!" I called out cheerily to the young man as he wandered around the shop, looking at the paintings done by some local artists. The boy turned around, and I was immediately greeted by a stunning smile. And dimples. Holy hell. Those dimples were adorable. I could feel my face heating up. I tried to return the smile and hoped he wouldn't notice my flushed cheeks.

I couldn't help but watch as he examined nearly every painting and photograph on the wall. He was incredibly tall, however not quite as tall as me. I knew I was staring, but he was truly fascinating to watch. I didn't have a clue why, he just was. A voice in my head whispered that yes, I did know why. Maybe I had a crush on this particular customer. Surprised at the boldness of my own thoughts, I squashed down the voice in hope of silencing it, and tore my gaze away from the man.

I glanced at the window, and at the clock hanging above it. I would be closing half past seven, but it appeared I still had two hours to go. For once, it had been a sunny day in London, and the last of the rare golden rays shone through the window. It was quite a pretty day, and it was a shame that I had been stuck inside.

The slight creaking of the floorboards brought my attention over to the customer, who was now walking towards the counter. I took a deep breath. He was just a customer.

"Hello," I said simply, and immediately cringed at my awkwardness. The young man just quietly laughed and gave me that gorgeous dimpled smile again. "What would you like?" I asked him, knowing I was blushing.

His eyes slid over the menu behind my head, before replying, "Hi, uh, I'd like the latte macchiato. With caramel." He said, his voice bordering on shy. Pale crimson was creeping in on his cheeks.

I grinned at his order choice as he handed over the payment. After tucking the money into the cash register, I grabbed a cup for the drink.

"A name for the order?" I asked, uncapping a Sharpie. When he didn't reply, I glanced up quizzically. He was staring at me, his already pink cheeks darkening. I raised an eyebrow, and his eyes widened, like he hadn't realized what he was doing.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. "Sorry, what was that?" I smirked and repeated the question. He exhaled loudly, as though he had been nervously holding his breath. He smiled embarrassingly.

"Dan." He said quickly. I couldn't help but smile at him and his sudden awkwardness. Maybe he didn't get caught staring often.

I began to make his drink, grinning to myself nearly the entire time. I glanced up only two or three times to find the young man, who I now knew as Dan, watching me. I knew I was blushing.

I was adding the caramel to the latte when an idea struck me. A horrible idea, really. But I couldn't help it. Braving my doubts about said horrible idea, I grabbed the Sharpie and leaned over the counter. I quickly scrawled on my number and straightened up, tossing the marker to the side.

I handed the drink over to Dan, making sure my messy handwriting was facing myself. I gave him a shy smile and cast my eyes downward as his fingers brushed mine. I knew I was almost beet red. What are you, a fourteen year old girl? I scolded myself. I murmured the typical nice-day spiel and began to turn away from Dan, but he spoke up.

"Hey, thanks, but, uh, Phil?" He began. He was almost pinker than I probably was. I balked at how he knew my name before dumbly realizing I was wearing my name tag. I focused back on what Dan was saying. "I was just wondering why you were, you know, grinning so much. About my drink?" His brown eyes were wide and bright.

I stared at him in shock for a few seconds before I began to laugh. "That drink, with the caramel, it's just like the one at Starbucks. The Grinder is just a tiny café! And then you came in and ordered a version of my favorite drink! It all seemed so amusing to me." I told him with a grin. He grinned back, both of our embarrassment fading away.

"Hey, it's mine too! Guess great minds think alike, huh?" Dan said to me, smiling. His bright eyes were swimming with emotions that I couldn't read. I wonder what he thought about my eyes. Were they as gorgeously shiny as his? As deep and curious as his? Not to mention the way he was smiling at me. That dimple would seriously be the death of me. We must've stood there for ages, smiling at each other like fools, but the sound of the door clanging against the wall brought us back to reality.

"Oh my god! I am so sorry! The door, jeez, these hinges are pretty loose, huh?" A teenage girl with pink hair called over to me. Two teen boys walked in behind her. "Sorry, sorry, I don't think anything is, like, broken! Sorry!"

I grimaced at her obnoxious voice and disruptive attitude, but waved my hand in a gesture that was supposed to mean it was no big deal. But that moment with Dan was over. Dan just gave me a tight smile and muttered a thanks for the coffee. I gave him a tired smile in return, and then he was walking out the door. The three teenagers headed towards the register. One of the boys was muttering about the girl's clumsiness, something I could actually relate to.

As I taking the pink haired girl's order, I glanced out the window at Dan. He had stopped a few steps out of the door and was now staring down at his cup. He looked up and we made brief eye contact through the window. I decided to do something very un-Phil-like. I smirked at him and turned away, focusing on the girl's drink.

But doubt was gnawing at my insides, eating away at my meager confidence. Just because I was certainly not straight, doesn't mean any of the cute boys I took interest in weren't. What have I done?! Dan was probably disgusted with me. He was probably going to go home and rant to his girlfriend about the totally gay barista who had tried hitting on him when he was out getting coffee. He was probably never going to come back to this coffee shop. I'll probably never see him again! This is exactly why I should've stay quiet about my sexuality. I don't want to relive high school.

It was then I decided I would not think about Dan until I closed. Then I could scream out my problems into a pillow. But for now? I needed to focus on work.

Two hours later.

I shrugged on my jacket as I locked the door to the small coffee shop. By now, the sunshine was gone. It was late July, but it was cold this year, and I wasn't going to take any chances.

I pulled out my phone as I began the short walk down the road to my flat. I turned it on, just to look at the time, and nearly dropped it in surprise. Two messages were blinking up at me. With shaky fingers, I clicked.

Unknown number: hey. this is dan. caramel macchiato guy from earlier.

Unknown number: i think your hair is really fucking cute.

Oh my god. What have I gotten myself into?