From the start (Joel Miller x Reader) (EDITED)

Chapter 18

You were elbow-deep in laundry when your phone buzzed. Joel.

Joel: Hey, I hope you're having a great day. I was wondering if you're free this weekend? Maybe we could grab some coffee or something... if you'd like.

You stared at the message, heart doing a little flip.

You typed back quickly.

You: Sounds great, Joel. Let's do it.

No overthinking. Just... yes.

Saturday came faster than expected. One second you were editing the final chapter of your book, the next you were staring at your closet like it had betrayed you.

"Okay," you muttered to yourself. "Chic, not trying too hard. Effortlessly amazing."

You settled on your trusty black dress, threw on a denim jacket, ankle boots, and dabbed on your favorite perfume like it was war paint. Hair down. Lip tint. Deep breath.

The café was buzzing with quiet chatter and the occasional clink of coffee spoons. You spotted Joel at a corner table, looking slightly out of place but incredibly handsome in a flannel shirt and that scruffy beard you forgot you liked.

"Hey," you said, sliding into the seat across from him.

He stood a little too fast. "Hey! You look... wow."

You smirked. "I'll take that."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I wasn't sure either," you admitted, glancing down at the menu.

A beat of awkward silence.

"So... how's the book coming along?" he asked.

"Finished the edits this week. I'm officially at the caffeine-and-crying stage," you said, smiling.

He chuckled. "Sounds intense. I'm proud of you."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Thanks."

Conversation picked up from there. Talk of your favorite authors turned into shared TV shows, which spiraled into a spirited debate over pineapple on pizza.

"Okay, but seriously—fruit has no business on a pizza," he said, grinning.

You leaned in. "Yet here we are, still ordering it."

More laughter. The tension melted. By the time you reached the bottom of your mugs, the awkwardness had long since vanished.

The light outside dimmed, casting the café in a cozy golden glow. Joel looked up, eyes locking on yours.

"I'm really glad we did this," he said softly, reaching across the table to take your hands. "Thank you for giving me a second chance."

You held his gaze. The clatter of dishes faded, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

"I'm not saying it's easy," you replied. "But... I'm here. And that's a start."

His smile reached his eyes, warm and sure. "It's more than I hoped for."

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself smile back—fully, freely, and with just a hint of hope.

You hadn't planned it. One second you were laughing about some ridiculous story involving his coworker and a rogue ladder, and the next—your faces were just there. Close. Breath mingling. His eyes flicked to your lips, and yours to his.

Then—bam—the kiss happened. Soft. Warm. A perfect little pause in the middle of the café, surrounded by the faint hum of espresso machines and the golden twinkle of overhead lights.