high flying love ¦ lee jeno

ch ; 12

·⁀ ༄.°✈ ₊⭒˚｡⋆ 12 ·⁀ ༄.°✈ ₊⭒˚｡⋆
The Light Reflects

Ten minutes earlier, panic had gripped Yura like a vice. A frantic inventory check had revealed a horrifying truth – a crippling shortage of dough for her signature blueberry muffins. This was a disaster of epic proportions. Blame gnawed at her – a miscalculation on her part, and now she was facing the consequences with a swarm of hungry customers about to descend.

The air in the cramped kitchen was thick with the frantic whirring of the mixer and the desperate whispers of self-criticism escaping Yura's lips. This wouldn't be enough. Nowhere near enough. She slammed the oven door shut with a defeated sigh, the meager batch of salvaged muffins a pathetic offering on the sacrificial altar of customer satisfaction.

Yura emerged from the kitchen, a conqueror returning from battle. Her brow was beaded with sweat, a smudge of flour dusted across her cheek, but in her hands rested a pan overflowing with an array of freshly baked masterpieces – the rescued muffins, golden and plump, nestled amongst flaky croissants and glistening apple turnovers.

Despite the near-meltdown, Yura had managed to salvage the situation. Her creativity, fueled by a dash of desperation, had produced a new selection of mouth-watering pastries. Relief washed over her as she carefully arranged the treats in the display case, each one a testament to her resilience under pressure.

As she straightened the last croissant, a familiar voice drifted across the counter, sending a jolt of surprise through her. Yura turned, her eyes widening in recognition.

Standing a few feet away was, Jeno.

The shock of seeing him again momentarily stole Yura's breath. She hadn't expected their paths to cross again, certainly not in her own cafe.

Jeno mirrored her stunned expression, a flicker of something more crossing his features.

Blinking a few times, as if to dispel the possibility of a hallucination, Yura finally managed to speak. Her voice came out in a disbelieving whisper, "Lee Jeno?"

The sound of his name on her lips seemed to snap him out of his own daze. A slow grin spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Hey," he replied, his voice a warm rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The bustling cafe faded away, the aroma of coffee and pastries a distant memory. All that remained was the electricity crackling between them, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air.

"What... what are you doing here?" Yura finally managed to stammer, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeno cleared his throat, a flicker of nervousness replacing the initial confidence. "Uh, well, I..." he hesitated, searching for the right words. "I'm with a friend. He saw this place and insisted we stop in."

The explanation, while plausible, sounded hollow even to his own ears. Somehow, a part of him knew now it wasn't just about the coffee. Now, standing mere feet away from her, inhaling the familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon that clung to her apron, he was acutely aware of the powerful pull she exerted on him.

Yura studied him intently, her gaze flitting between his eyes and the pilot uniform he still wore. Suddenly, the familiar scent of coffee and pastries took on an entirely different meaning. Her cheeks, which had just been dusted with flour, now burned a deep crimson. She wasn't expecting for their paths to cross, again.

Panic, a feeling she rarely experienced, began to gnaw at the edges of her composure. Her voice, which was usually calm and collected, threatened to crack.

"Uh, wel, w-welcome to Leo's Hearth," she stammered, her words tumbling over each other.

Hana, who had been refilling water glasses at a nearby table, couldn't help but steal a glance towards the counter. Her eyes widened in shock. Yura, their usually cool and composed boss, was a flustered mess. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, a stark contrast to her crisp white collared shirt.

Meanwhile, Jeno couldn't help but notice the sudden shift in Yura's demeanor. Her initial surprise had morphed into a charming nervousness that made him want to smile.

The aroma of freshly baked pastries hung heavy in the air as Minho, bewildered by the sudden shift in his boss's demeanor, placed the tray containing Jeno and Renjun's orders on the counter with a soft thud. Jeno, however, seemed oblivious, his gaze locked on Yura with an intensity that made Minho shift uncomfortably.

"How are you?" Jeno asked, his voice soft and tinged with a genuine concern that sent a tremor through Yura.

The simple question, so unexpected in this situation, completely threw her off balance. Her carefully constructed mask of composure crumbled, replaced by a wave of flustered confusion. "Oh, um, I... well," she stammered, her mind going a mile a minute. "I should be asking you that, right? After all, our last meeting…"

Words.

Words tumbled out in a panicked torrent. "I, I should've been honest from the start. What you said that night? It was true, we should've never planned that whole thing. On behalf of my friend, I really really owe you a proper apology. How about a refund? It's on the house! Please let me make it up to yo—"

Raising a hand, he signaled for her to stop. "Hey, slow down," he said gently. "Whatever happened, it's alright."

Yura clamped her mouth shut, mortified by her own rambling. Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, highlighting the way her hair, pulled back in a messy ponytail, framed her flushed face.

Across the counter, Renjun watched the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and confusion. He had no idea who this woman was or why Yura was apologizing profusely.

Taking advantage of the lull, Jeno continued, his voice sincere. "Look," he said, "let's just call it a wash. Water under the bridge. How about we start over? Properly this time."

With a gesture that mirrored their first encounter in Milan, Jeno offered his hand. "Lee Jeno," he said, a touch of amusement lingering in his tone.

Yura, still flustered but with a hint of a smile peeking through, took his hand and shook it tentatively. "Seo Yura," she replied, a slight crease on her eyes betraying a repressed chuckle.

"Not Seohyun," Jeno chirped, noticing the slight crinkle around her eyes as she smiled widely.

-

Continued.