Clara had just settled into her usual corner of the café, her laptop open, the steam from her coffee cup curling lazily into the air.

She was lost in thought, her ice-blue eyes scanning the screen, when her elbow bumped the edge of the table. The coffee cup tipped, and before she could react, the dark liquid spilled over her hand.

“Oh!” she gasped, the heat startling her.

Noah, who had been sitting a few tables away, was on his feet in an instant. He was at her side before she could even reach for a napkin. “Here,” he said, his voice low but urgent, handing her a stack of tissues. Their fingers brushed as she took them, and the contact was electric.

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. Clara’s ice core, usually so steady, gave a faint tremor. Her pupils narrowed into vertical slits, a subtle shift that only someone watching closely would notice.

And Noah—his pheromones, usually tightly controlled, surged unbidden into the air. The scent of snow-covered pines mingled with the metallic tang of iron, a heady combination that made Clara’s breath catch.

Noah stepped back quickly, his jaw tightening. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough. “I didn’t mean to—”

Clara cut him off with a small, knowing smile. “It’s fine,” she said, her tone light but her gaze sharp. “Your pheromones… they’re interesting. I’ve never smelled anything quite like them.”

Noah’s eyes flicked to hers, a flash of something unreadable in their depths. “Interesting?” he echoed, his voice tinged with skepticism. “Most people find it… overwhelming.”

“Maybe I’m not most people,” Clara replied, her smile widening just a fraction. She dabbed at her hand with the tissues, her movements deliberate, her eyes never leaving his. There was a challenge in her gaze, a spark of curiosity that Noah couldn’t ignore.

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re not, are you? I’ve noticed that about you.”

Clara’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression calm. “Noticed what, exactly?”

Noah hesitated, his gaze flickering over her face. “You’re… different. In a way I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Clara tilted her head, her ice-blue eyes glinting with amusement. “Careful, Noah. That almost sounds like a compliment.”

“Maybe it is,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Or maybe I’m just curious.”

Clara’s smile deepened, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that neither could—or wanted to—resist.

Clara’s fingers twitched, longing to reach out, to close the distance between them. But she held back, her icy exterior masking the warmth that was growing inside her.

Noah, too, seemed caught in the moment, his eyes locked on hers, his body leaning ever so slightly toward her. It was as if they were on the edge of something—something neither of them was ready to fully acknowledge.

Finally, Clara broke the silence, her voice light but laced with something deeper. “Well, if you’re curious, maybe you should stick around. Find out what makes me so different.”

Noah’s lips curved into a slow, almost reluctant smile. “Maybe I will.”

And just like that, the tension shifted, the moment passing but leaving behind a lingering spark. Clara turned back to her laptop, her heart still racing, while Noah retreated to his table, his mind buzzing with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answered.

But one thing was certain: something had shifted between them, something neither could easily ignore. And as the scent of snow and iron lingered in the air, both of them knew that this was just the beginning.

The café was quiet, the hum of the espresso machine silenced, and the soft glow of the overhead lights replaced by the dim, warm ambiance of the evening.

Noah wiped down the counter, his movements methodical, almost meditative. He could feel her presence before he saw her, a subtle shift in the air that made his heart beat just a little faster.

Clara lingered by the door, her fingers brushing against the edge of a chair. She hesitated, then stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. "Can I get another coffee?" she asked, her voice low, almost tentative. "This time, any temperature is fine."

Noah looked up, his eyes meeting hers. There was something different in her gaze tonight—less guarded, more open. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Sure. Coming right up."

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He turned to the espresso machine, his hands moving with practiced ease as he prepared a latte. The silence between them was comfortable, charged with an unspoken understanding. Clara leaned against the counter, watching him. "Do you hate Alphas?" she asked suddenly, her tone casual but her eyes searching.

Noah paused, then chuckled softly. "No, I don’t hate Alphas. I just hate the ones who think they’re better than everyone else."

Clara smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "What about me? I’m pretty full of myself, aren’t I?"

He turned to face her, his expression serious now. "You’re different," he said simply, his voice steady.

Clara’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. She took the latte he offered, their fingers brushing briefly. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through both of them, but neither pulled away.

"Why do you stay here so late?" Noah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clara shrugged, her gaze drifting to the window where the city lights flickered like distant stars. "I guess I just like the company," she admitted, her voice tinged with a vulnerability she rarely showed.

Noah stepped closer, his hand resting on the counter near hers. "You don’t have to pretend with me, you know," he said softly. "I see you, Clara. All of you."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of something neither of them was ready to name. Clara’s eyes flicked to his lips, and Noah’s heart raced. He wanted to close the distance between them, to kiss her until the world outside ceased to exist.

But then Clara looked away, a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head. "I should go," she said, her voice barely audible.

Noah nodded, his hand dropping to his side. "Yeah," he agreed, though every fiber of his being screamed for her to stay.

As she walked towards the door, Noah watched her, his heart aching with a longing he couldn’t quite understand. "Clara," he called out, just as her hand touched the door handle.

She turned, her eyes meeting his once more. "Yeah?"

Noah hesitated, then smiled. "See you tomorrow?"

Clara’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Noah alone in the twilight, the taste of her presence lingering like the faintest hint of coffee on his lips.

The bell above the café door jingled softly as Clara stepped out into the crisp evening air. She paused, her hand lingering on the doorframe, before turning back to Noah with a small, knowing smile. “I’ll be here tomorrow,” she said, her voice light but carrying a weight that made Noah’s chest tighten.

He blinked, caught off guard by her words, before a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Good. I’ll have your iced Americano ready,” he replied, his tone soft, almost intimate.

Clara’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she tilted her head slightly. “You remembered.”

“How could I forget?” Noah said, his gaze dropping to her lips for a fleeting moment before he caught himself. “You’re… hard to forget.”

The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with something unspoken. Clara’s smile deepened, and she took a step back, breaking the tension. “See you tomorrow, then,” she said, her voice a little breathless.

Noah nodded, his hands instinctively reaching for the silver band on his wrist, a nervous habit he hadn’t realized he’d picked up. “Tomorrow,” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

As Clara turned and walked away, Noah found himself unable to look away. Her figure grew smaller against the backdrop of the city lights, but the warmth of her presence lingered in the café. He exhaled slowly, his fingers still tracing the cool metal of the band.

For the first time, the thought of Alphas didn’t stir the usual bitterness in his chest. Instead, there was a flicker of something else—something he wasn’t ready to name.

Inside, the café was quiet, the hum of the espresso machine now silent. Noah leaned against the counter, his mind replaying the way Clara’s eyes had lingered on him, the way her voice had softened when she’d said goodbye. He shook his head, a small, incredulous laugh escaping him.

“What are you doing, Noah?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

The sound of his own voice broke the spell, and he straightened up, forcing himself to focus on closing the café. But as he wiped down the counters and locked the door, his thoughts kept drifting back to Clara.

Tomorrow.

The word echoed in his mind, carrying a promise he wasn’t sure he was ready for. But for the first time in a long time, Noah found himself looking forward to the next day.