The morning sun slanted through the tall glass windows of the café, casting warm gold across the polished tables and sleepy-eyed students hunched over lattes and half-finished assignments.
Emily sat at her usual corner seat by the window, one leg tucked beneath her, fingers wrapped around a steaming paper cup.
Outside, campus life trickled by — people rushing, laughing, earbuds in, notebooks forgotten.
But inside her little bubble, it was quiet. Just the hum of the espresso machine and the soft vibration of her phone against the table.
She smiled when she saw the name.
Lina: Still haven't moved from bed. I'm a slug today.
Emily shook her head, typing back.
Emily: Slugs don't flirt as well as you do.
A beat later:
Lina : That's debatable. Slugs leave a trail. You're still following mine, aren't you?
Emily snorted into her coffee.
She quickly responded: Emily: Gross. But okay, points for creativity.
Then added: Emily: Are you coming later?
