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Chapter 3 Cappuccinos and Critiques

Word Count: 1194    |    Released on: 20/07/2026

r of sky-blue espadrilles. She looked effortless, her hair twisted up into a claw clip, a silk scarf knotted around the handle of her canvas tote bag. "C

a constant reminder that my mortal enemy was currently naked just a few feet away. I threw on a white linen sundress, slip

scent of blooming jasmine fading into fresh espre

led alleyway, its outdoor seating area framed by sprawling ivy vines. Small round marble tables spilled onto the cobbl

y adjusting her sunglasses to look across the alley. "This is the

from a remarkably polite waiter whose jawline looked like a work of art. For a solid twenty minutes, ev

l he

rature, you really don't possess any situational awareness," a sm

oze halfway

curling slightly at the nape of his neck. He was wearing a fresh white linen button-down shirt, the top three buttons casually undone, and a

ause this is getting illegal," I said,

istance that serves actual artisanal blends," he said, stepping around our table and effortlessly pulling out the empty third cha

ally,

her iced latte. I shot her a look of pure, unadulterated bet

ble. His knee accidentally brushed against mine, sending a sudden, annoying spark throug

y outfit. His icy blue eyes scanned my white linen sundress, ling

and resting his chin in his hand. "A white linen dress in a city covered in ancient dust and dark esp

d back, leaning forward to match his posture. "You look like you're about to audition for a preppy

apers. "This is functional, Avery. Unlike your dress, which has zero pockets

document he had laid on the table. My academic instincts instantly flared up. I leaned closer, squinti

g a doctoral thesis on post-war macroeconomics at a scenic

jaw tightened slightly at my critique. "Some of us don't just sit around eating chocolate croissants a

ok around you, Julian! There is history, art, culture, and thousands of years of human emotion right in front of

s on my arms stand up. He leaned in a fraction closer, his blue eyes locking onto mine with an intense, sudden gravity t

" I whispered back, completely caught

ou're the local expert with the rich uncle, where are the best vintage s

our friend to put the paper map away. I'm heading toward the Centro Storico area anyway. If she promises not to

ly too confident. But as he stood up, tucking his economics paper under his arm and waiting f

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