Maybe

Chapter 36 Unlucky day

I stand in line, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air, a soothing comfort as the morning feels calm and perfect. Unlike yesterday, today is peaceful, and I can almost breathe freely as I check my watch. I can't afford to be late for work-my long vacation ended yesterday, and the thought of being scolded on the first day back is enough to make me shudder.

But just as I'm about to step forward to place my order, a loud voice cuts through the air.

"I didn't order a latte!" the man bellows, his voice sharp and irritated. He's standing at the counter, holding a cup like it's the source of his anger. "I ordered an Americano! This is not what I asked for!"

The worker behind the counter, a young woman, tries to remain calm, smiling politely. "I'm sorry, sir. I'll make sure to fix that for you right away."

"No, no, no," the man interrupts, shaking his head dramatically. "This is exactly what happens when you rush. I'm a regular here, and this is not what I ordered! I want my Americano, now!"

The worker tries to explain again. "I'm really sorry about the mistake. I'll have it fixed. Just a moment-"

"No," the man cuts her off, his voice growing louder. "I don't have time for moments! You gave me the wrong drink. I've got a busy day! I can't stand people who can't get a simple order right!"

I glance at the time again. I really can't afford this delay. I try to stay calm, but I can feel the frustration creeping in. This man is not backing down anytime soon.

I sigh, checking my watch one more time. Every minute counts right now. "Ugh, really?" I mutter under my breath. This is so typical.

The man continues to argue, and I can see the worker getting visibly more stressed. I take a deep breath, willing myself not to get involved. I'm so close to the counter, and yet I feel like I'm going to be late for work thanks to this guy.

"Please," I mutter, trying to keep my tone low. "Can't you just let her fix it? I really don't have time for this."

The man glares at me, like I'm the one in the wrong. "And you think I do?" he snaps back. "She's messing up my morning, and I'm not just going to sit here and take it."

I roll my eyes, my patience wearing thin. "Well, sitting here arguing isn't going to get you anywhere faster either."

He mutters something under his breath, clearly unwilling to back down, and I can see the worker taking a small step back to fix his drink. The line is growing, and I'm feeling more anxious with each passing second.

I check my watch once more. If this doesn't end soon, I'll definitely be late.

As the man storms off with his precious Americano, he shoves past me, hard enough to make me stumble backward. I stagger, my back bumping right into someone else.

"Jerk," I mutter under my breath, barely keeping my balance. Turning around quickly, I start to apologize. "I'm so sor-"

My words catch in my throat as my gaze locks onto the person behind me. No way. No freaking way.

Ethan.

Standing there, looking just as infuriatingly smug as ever. My eyes widen, and I spin around so fast I almost get whiplash. What the heck? Why is Ethan here? Does he live nearby? Work nearby? Breathe nearby?

Heart racing, I try to keep calm, stepping up to the counter to place my order. "Just a regular coffee, please," I say quickly, hoping to escape this nightmare scenario.

I grab my drink, ready to bolt, but fate-or the universe's cruel sense of humor-has other plans. I feel a sudden tug on my hair. Confused, I turn around, only to see my hair hopelessly tangled around one of Ethan's shirt buttons.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Ethan, now aware of the situation, raises an eyebrow. "Really?" he drawls, clearly amused. "Your hair?"

I let out a sharp sigh, trying to free myself by carefully pulling at each strand. But it's no use. With one drink in my hand and the other awkwardly tugging at my hair, it's a losing battle.

"I don't have time for this," I mutter, yanking harder.

Ethan, completely unfazed, steps forward to place his order. "One black coffee," he says, as if nothing ridiculous is happening.

Meanwhile, I'm still struggling. My hair refuses to cooperate. My patience runs out. I grit my teeth and, with one final pull-snap.

His button pops right off.

We both freeze, staring at the broken button now dangling from my hair like some weird trophy. Neither of us speaks. The moment stretches, filled with tension, disbelief, and... utter awkwardness.

I slowly lift my gaze to meet his. He's staring at me, half amused, half exasperated.

"Well," he says after a beat, smirking. "I guess you owe me a new button."

I groan internally. This day just keeps getting better.

"I'm sorry...?" I say, flashing an innocent smile, trying to downplay the sheer absurdity of the situation. My fingers fumble to detach the rogue button still tangled in my hair. Who knew having long hair would betray me like this one day?

Ethan raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by my wide-eyed attempt at innocence. He looks down at his now slightly open shirt, smirks, and then glances back at me. Great. Just great.

As his coffee arrives at the counter, I seize the opportunity. "Uh, sorry again," I mumble, quickly stepping away, hoping to avoid any further humiliation. My legs carry me toward the door with the urgency of someone fleeing a crime scene.

Focus. Don't trip. Don't look back. You cannot be late for work. My manager would definitely not be impressed with this excuse.

I push open the door and step into the crisp morning air, letting out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. One mission accomplished: escaping Ethan. Now, onto the next-making it to work on time.

Later that night, I walked home, the crisp air biting at my cheeks. The chaos of the morning was nearly forgotten-nearly. I had made it to work just in time, but a momentary distraction, thanks to a certain someone invading my thoughts had me finishing late. Of course.

I shuffled along the quiet street, eager to crash into bed and call it a day. But as I neared my building, something-or rather someone-caught my attention. A tall figure leaned against a lamppost, speaking into his phone.

I squinted. No way.

Shit.

It was Ethan.

He looked annoyingly put-together, as usual. The long black coat he wore flared slightly in the wind, giving him a dramatic air that felt straight out of a movie. But what really caught my eye? His shirt. It was different.

Of course, it was. He couldn't have gone around all day with a buttonless shirt, thanks to me. Still, seeing him now sent a wave of panic through me. I need to get out of here before he sees me.

I ducked my head, picking up my pace, practically sprinting toward the entrance of my building. My heart pounded like I was in some action movie, being chased by a monster-or in this case, an exasperating man who'd probably have some smug comment ready.

The elevator doors gleamed at the end of the hall like salvation. I jabbed the button repeatedly, whispering a frantic, "Come on, come on..."

A soft ding announced its arrival. I threw myself inside, hitting the floor button with more force than necessary. As the doors slid shut, I let out a shaky breath. Thank goodness.

Leaning back against the wall, I stared at my reflection in the mirrored panel. Safe. For now.

Maybe tomorrow would be less of a disaster. Or not. But.. What's he doing around here?

It seems today is really my unlucky day..