The coffee shop hadn't changed. The windows were still foggy from steamed milk, the chalkboard menu still written in crooked cursive, and the same barista—Tyler, with the snake tattoo on his wrist still worked the register like he was slightly hungover but vibing anyway.
Camila stood in line, tapping her card against her thigh, rehearsing ways to act casual if she ran into him here. Which was ridiculous. This was a small town. Of course she would run into him.She just hadn't expected it to be now.
"Noah," Tyler said behind the counter. "Cinnamon latte again?"
Camila froze.
The voice that answered was lower than she remembered, more grounded, but achingly familiar. "Yeah. Thanks, man."
He was behind her.
Camila didn't turn around. Her heart felt like it had climbed into her throat and refused to come down. She stepped forward to order.
"Uh—just an iced oat latte," she said, barely above a whisper.
And then—
"Cam?"
His voice, soft. Surprised. A little wary.
She turned.
Noah was wearing a dark hoodie, sleeves pushed to his elbows. His hair was shorter, more grown out in that deliberate kind of messy. He had stubble now. His eyes—the same deep green they'd always been, widened.
"Hey," she said.
"Wow. I—I didn't know you were back already."
"Got in last night."
A pause. Heavy with memory.
"You look… different," he said.
"College will do that."
Another silence. The kind filled with things neither of them wanted to say in front of Tyler, or cappuccino machines, or tiny indie playlists humming from ceiling speakers.
"How've you been?" he asked.
"Good," she said too quickly. "You?"
He nodded. "Yeah. You know. Working, music stuff. Freelancing some editing gigs."
"Still writing?"
He hesitated. "A little."
Camila glanced at the floor. She didn't know what else to ask. How do you condense two years of silence into a coffee shop conversation?
Tyler called out, "Cinnamon latte for Noah!"
Noah picked it up but didn't leave.
"You staying with Lila?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Cool. Well… I guess I'll see you at the rehearsal?"
"Yeah. I'll be there."
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something more, but then just gave her a soft nod. "It's good to see you, Cam."
"You too."
And just like that, he was gone. She stood there, stunned. Iced latte forgotten. Air thick.
When she finally left the shop, she saw him walking down the boardwalk, coffee in hand. He didn't look back.
She didn't expect him to.
And yet, as she turned the opposite direction, her fingers found their way into her coat pocket—where the folded photo strip lived, small and stubborn.