Updated Apr 8, 2026 • ~8 min read
Chapter 1: The Coffee Swap
Sienna
The coffee shop smells like burnt espresso and cinnamon, and Sienna Martinez is talking too much. Again.
“—and I’m just so nervous, you know? It’s my first real teaching job. Like, I student-taught before, obviously, but this is MINE. My classroom. My students. What if they hate me? What if I’m terrible at classroom management and they all end up feral by October—”
The barista—name tag says DEREK—nods with the glazed expression of someone who stopped listening three sentences ago.
“Sure,” he says, clearly on autopilot. “What can I get you?”
Sienna winces. Right. This is a COFFEE SHOP, not a therapy session. She’s doing the thing again. The nervous rambling thing her mom says will “scare off every man in a fifty-mile radius.”
Not that she’s trying to attract men right now. She’s trying to caffeinate herself into competence before tomorrow’s first-day-of-school staff meeting.
“Caramel latte,” she says, forcing herself to stop talking. “Grande. Extra shot. Please.”
“Name?”
“Sienna.”
Derek scribbles something on a cup that definitely doesn’t spell her name correctly and moves on. Sienna steps aside, already pulling out her phone to obsessively re-read the welcome email from Principal Okafor for the seventeen hundredth time.
Behind her, a voice says, “First day jitters?”
It’s deep. Warm. Amused.
Sienna turns and—
Oh.
Oh no.
The man standing behind her is TALL. Like, unnecessarily tall. Six-two at least, with broad shoulders testing the structural integrity of a charcoal gray button-down. Dark hair with just enough silver at the temples to suggest he’s older than her, and dark eyes that crinkle at the corners like he smiles a lot. Or used to.
Right now, he’s looking at her with something that might be sympathy. Or pity. Hard to tell.
“Was I that obvious?” she asks, trying for a laugh that comes out more like a nervous exhale.
“You told the barista you were worried about turning children feral,” he says, and there’s definitely amusement now. “So, yes. A bit obvious.”
Heat floods her cheeks. Great. Spectacular. She’s been in this coffee shop for ninety seconds and she’s already humiliated herself in front of the hottest man she’s seen in… ever, possibly.
“I have anxiety,” she blurts out, because apparently her mouth-to-brain filter is BROKEN today. “And I handle it by oversharing with strangers. It’s a whole thing. My therapist is working on it with me.”
His mouth twitches. “Is she?”
“Yeah. We’re doing cognitive behavioral therapy. It’s helping. Mostly. Obviously not right now.”
Why is she STILL TALKING?
“Well,” he says, stepping forward to order, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’ll be terrible. Anyone who cares this much usually isn’t.”
Something warm blooms in Sienna’s chest. That was… nice. Unexpectedly nice.
“Thanks,” she says softly. “That helps, actually.”
He orders—”Black coffee, venti, extra hot”—and moves to stand beside her at the pickup counter. This close, she can smell his cologne. Something woodsy and expensive that makes her want to lean in and—
Nope. Not going there. Absolutely not.
“I’m Sienna, by the way,” she says, because the silence is stretching and she’s INCAPABLE of letting silence exist. “I know you already heard that when I ordered, but I’m saying it again because I’m awkward and—”
“Jace,” he interrupts gently. His hand extends, and she takes it.
His palm is warm and slightly calloused. Not a desk job, then. Or at least not JUST a desk job.
“Nice to meet you, Jace.”
“You too, Sienna who overshares with baristas.”
She laughs. An actual, genuine laugh that surprises her. “That’s going on my headstone.”
“Hopefully not for a while.”
“Yeah, I’d like to at least make it through tomorrow without dying of embarrassment.”
“Caramel latte for Siennnna!” Derek calls, mangling her name exactly as predicted.
Sienna reaches for the cup at the same moment Jace does. Their fingers brush, and there’s a SPARK. Actual electricity that zings up her arm and makes her breath catch.
They both freeze.
“Sorry,” she says. “I—”
“No, that’s—”
“Sienna, right?” He’s holding the cup, checking the label. “This one’s yours.”
“Oh! Thanks.”
She takes it. He reaches for the other cup—the black coffee—and wraps both hands around it like he’s trying to warm himself.
It’s August. It’s eighty-five degrees outside.
Sienna takes a sip of her latte and—
NOPE.
“Oh my GOD.” She barely stops herself from spitting it back into the cup. “This is—this is just COFFEE. Black coffee. Bitter, soul-destroying black coffee.”
Jace pauses mid-sip of his own drink. His eyes widen slightly.
“This is a caramel latte,” he says slowly.
No.
NO.
“They swapped them,” Sienna says, staring at the cup in horror. “Derek gave you mine and me yours.”
“Apparently.”
They look at each other. Then down at the cups. Then back at each other.
“Do you want to—” Sienna starts.
“Trade?” Jace finishes.
“Yes. Please. Before I die from caffeine shock.”
They swap cups. Sienna takes a grateful sip of her ACTUAL latte and nearly moans. Sweet, creamy perfection. Life-giving nectar.
When she opens her eyes, Jace is watching her with an expression she can’t quite read.
“Better?” he asks.
“So much better. How’s yours?”
He sips the black coffee, winces slightly. “Objectively terrible, but I’m used to it.”
“You drink battery acid voluntarily?”
“It’s efficient.”
“It’s DEPRESSING.”
“I’m a pragmatist.”
“You’re a masochist.”
His mouth does that twitching thing again. Almost a smile, but not quite. Like he’s out of practice.
Sienna glances at her phone and SWEARS. “I have to go. I’m supposed to be setting up my classroom and I got distracted by—” She waves vaguely at the coffee shop. At him. “This. All of this.”
“The Great Coffee Swap of 2024,” Jace says solemnly.
“A tragedy in two parts.”
“We should memorialize it somehow.”
Is he FLIRTING? It feels like flirting. But also maybe she’s reading into it because he’s hot and she hasn’t been on a date in eight months and her judgment is compromised.
“I really do have to go,” she says reluctantly. “But, um, thanks. For the pep talk. And the coffee mishap. It was… weirdly what I needed.”
“Happy to mishap with you anytime.”
Okay. DEFINITELY flirting.
Sienna turns to leave and makes it exactly three steps before—
“Wait.”
She spins around. Jace is following her, long strides eating up the distance between them.
“This might be forward,” he says, “but can I get your number? In case our drinks get mixed up again.”
Her heart does a full gymnastics routine in her chest. Vault. Dismount. Perfect landing.
“That’s a terrible excuse,” she says.
“I know.”
“The chances of us being in the same coffee shop at the same time and ordering at the exact same moment and getting our drinks swapped AGAIN are astronomical.”
“Minuscule,” he agrees.
“Practically zero.”
“So is that a no?”
Sienna bites her lip. Every rational part of her brain is screaming CAUTION. He’s older. He’s a stranger. She’s about to start a new job and she should be FOCUSING.
But he’s looking at her like she’s the most interesting thing that’s happened to him in a long time. And when was the last time someone looked at her like that?
“It’s a yes,” she hears herself say.
His smile, when it finally appears, is devastating.
They exchange phones. She types in her number, adding her name as “Sienna (Coffee Disaster)” because she’s CLEVER like that. He types his in as just “Jace.”
No last name. Man of mystery.
“I’ll text you,” he says, handing her phone back.
“You better. I gave you my real number and everything.”
“I’m honored.”
“You should be. I’m very selective about who gets to witness my anxiety spirals.”
That almost-smile again. “I’ll treasure the privilege.”
Sienna backs toward the door, still grinning like an idiot. “Okay. Bye. Don’t drink any more terrible coffee.”
“No promises.”
She pushes through the door and into the late-summer heat. Her hands are shaking slightly as she unlocks her car. Adrenaline. Caffeine. Whatever this feeling is when a gorgeous stranger asks for your number and looks at you like—
Her phone buzzes.
Unknown Number: My coffee tastes better with your lipstick on it.
Sienna’s breath catches. She looks back through the coffee shop window. Jace is still standing there, phone in hand, watching her. When their eyes meet, he raises his cup in a small salute.
She shouldn’t smile this wide. It’s probably unsafe to smile this wide while operating a motor vehicle.
Sienna: That’s the caramel. I’m a delightful flavor.
Jace: I don’t doubt it.
Oh, she’s in TROUBLE.
The very best kind.
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