Chapter 42 Next Step

• Zara stirred her iced latte, the ice cubes clinking against the glass like tiny bells. The café smelled of roasted beans and sugar syrup, but the sweetness didn’t reach her. She was too wired in anticipation. Her eyes were locked on Leo across their usual café table, the one in the corner, by the window, where the light hit just right and the staff had long stopped pretending not to eavesdrop on their conspiratorial whispers.
• He arrived ten minutes late, this time, with that smug half-grin that made her want to both slap him and kiss him. Not that she'd ever admit either.
• "Finally," she said, without looking up from her drink. "I was starting to think you'd ghosted me."