"Have you completely lost your mind? Why the heck are you sighing?!" Rava internally chastised himself, the traitorous warmth creeping into his face. An utterly foolish smile played on his lips against his own volition. A mere moment later, he visualized ramming his head against a wall, repeating it endlessly, until both this utter adoration and what little intelligence he retained were thoroughly eradicated.
However, the logical part of his brain conceded the possibility of his remaining there, simply staring, for an eternity. He also realized he wouldn't be alone in doing so. This was, after all, because the man was... Not merely handsome or attractive, but seemingly pulled straight from the cover of a magazine, the type Rava had secretly devoured beneath his blankets at fourteen.
His facial structure practically embodied the golden ratio: strikingly shaped almond eyes, mirroring the hue of warm amber, and framed by thick lashes. Those eyes possessed an intrinsic curiosity, but remained wholly unintrusive. His lips were full, and he had a small nose with a barely perceptible bump... These minor flaws only rendered him even more endearing. His dark green, tousled hair was artfully styled. All of this sent Rava's heart into a complete frenzy.
When their gazes met anew, goosebumps prickled down Rava's spine. In that single instant, a simple, albeit terrifying, realization crystallized.
He was in love at first sight.
"You are an utter fool," rationality declared, its last words preceding its complete evaporation.
Unable to shift his gaze, Rava found himself sinking into the chair alongside Iris. Taking a breath, he elected to initiate a casual conversation:
"Well, a new man on the team," he commenced, his voice laced with honeyed venom. "I'd begun to forget what a conversation that involved topics other than gossips." He shifted his gaze, offering the girls an exaggerated show of pity.
The stranger laughed - boisterous, authentic, showing off a set of straight, white teeth. His laughter was... somehow, contagious.
"I have to say, I'm quite happy to be here too," he replied, and Rava observed the delicate laughter lines that were present around his eyes. "You can just tell this place is, well, special."
Beneath the table, Rava crossed his legs and arms, offering an involuntary giggle. The ridiculous sound seemed more natural than any contrived laughter he could recall attempting in recent memory.
"Oh, look at the two of you already getting along," Iris drawled, directing a meaningful glance towards Ivi. "Barely five minutes in, and it's like this."
Ivi flushed from toe to crown, burying her face in the memorized menu, and pretending not to be taking in the implications. Meanwhile, Rava felt a dangerous warmth spreading all through his body. Damn it, he was behaving like a teenager at their first date!
The lawyer's rap on the table cut into the comfortable conversation. The man, perfectly suited, pushed his documents aside and offered a cold smile:
"Given Mr. Crosby Jr.'s position as a diplomat's son, additional security protocols are necessary." His eyes swept over the bustling cafe, where the "guards" wearing suits were failing to be convincing. "We offer our sincere apologies for the inconvenience."
The café owner shifted uneasily in his seat:
"Of course, but... why our cafe, in particular? We are not exactly famed for our specialized reputations or..."
"That's strictly confidential," the lawyer cut him off.
"But what do we tell the press?" The owner massaged his temples. "They will inevitably."
"Press releases and interviews will be arranged through our PR department." The man procured a stack of papers and put them on the table. "Now, the primary point. Mr. Crosby wishes to ensure his son's safety. Please review the non-disclosure agreement."
Rava picked up the document. Standard phrasing: restrictions on talking about the "special employee," penalty clauses... Nothing out of the ordinary. His fingers were automatically reaching for a pen when he noticed the man with the green hair was watching him.
"Thanks for understanding," Blaine said quietly when Rava signed. His amber eyes sparkled with satisfaction. "I'll do my best, I promise. I'm trained in mixology and I hope coffee isn't substantially harder."
Rava's heart leapt. Damn, he's so cute, flashed through his mind as he deliberately looked away from that gaze.
Iris snorted, flicking through the document:
"What happens if we have a few objections?"
"We will consider individual revisions," the lawyer sighed wearily, readying himself for what promised to be a lengthy debate.
Rava had already tuned them out. His whole focus was on the new barista.
After the tense discussions wrapped up, and all the final signatures were put in place. Once the cafe had cleared, everyone took a collective sigh of relief, yet somehow, not a speck of dust remained, as if a cleaning crew had raced through in seconds.
"Right, team!" The owner clapped his hands with a fake level of optimism. "Let's get this started! Opening soon!" His finger found its mark at Rava. "Swift, since it's Mr. Crosby's first shift, show him around. Maybe begin in the stockroom?"
"Got it," Rava nodded without hesitation, gesturing for Blaine to follow.
Being alone with this man, and so soon, wasn't planned. Rava was all too aware of what stood before him - a 100% straight man from a fundamentally different world. Wealthy. Successful. The kind that would not give him the time of day, let alone consider being seduced. Stereotypical images came to mind: exclusive clubs, prearranged marriages, luxury cars, parties that stripped people of their humanity.
"Rava?" A gentle voice drew him out. "Oh, sorry, is that okay for me to call you that?"
"Ah..." An involuntary sigh escaped his lips. You're a total idiot, Swift, he castigated himself.
"Yes, of course," Rava hastily replied. "And what should I call you?"
"Blaine is fine." The man then extended his hand again, and, to his surprise, his fingers were wonderfully warm.
"Blaine..." The name felt natural on his tongue, like a drop of honey. Sweet and syrupy. Rava coughed quickly. "Right, work. In the stockroom, we don't only check expiration dates and inventory, we also make sandwiches. This is the mini-kitchen..."
Blaine listened intently, those amber eyes refusing to leave Rava's side. In the quiet of the stockroom, the pauses between his explanations elongated, filled with awkward glances and those accidental brushes of hands while passing items. Heat traveled up Rava's neck to his cheeks, pushing him to speed up his rambling.
"We normally make two massive batches of sandwiches before the cafe opens".
"Perhaps we could do them together?" Blaine interrupted, leaning in slightly.
A wave of warmth spread through Rava's whole body. He turned away, acting like he was examining the shelf in an attempt to hide his flush.
"Sure..." His voice came out with a touch of huskiness. "How else are you going to learn?"
The limited space of the stockroom closed in between them, unexpectedly and dangerously. Rava caught himself being aware of Blaine's expensive cologne, woody and, at the same time, with a hint of something fresh, reminiscent of the ocean.
Just show him how to slice the bread and construct the sandwiches, he sternly reminded himself. And stop acting like a lovestruck teenager.
But, when their fingers incidentally touched over a slice of cheese, all conscious thought just escaped again.
They had been acquainted for barely two hours. Yet, Rava already wanted to kiss this man and spend his entire life with him.
His sweet fantasy was smashed by the savage buzz of his ringing phone.