So, the whole story starts, as the best ones often do, with a catastrophe, a spilled cup of coffee.
Our heroine, Elara, was in this little coffee shop called "The Daily Grind," which was ironic because she was more of a dreamy-sort-of-person than a grinder. She was carrying a huge canvas bag stuffed with sketchbooks and she was running late. She wasn't watching where she was going, of course.
She slams right into a guy sitting at a tiny table by the window.
Now, this guy is Rhys. He's an architect, and he was completely engrossed in laying out the most complicated blueprint she'd ever seen. He was leaning over it, his brow furrowed in concentration. When Elara hit the table, his freshly poured Americano went everywhere.
It soaked the edge of the blueprint…a beautiful, detailed rendering of a municipal building and splashed across Rhys's crisp white shirt.
Elara was mortified. We're talking instant, hot-faced panic.
"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, please, I didn't even see you, I'm such a disaster," she stammered, fumbling for napkins that were obviously useless.
Rhys slowly looked up. He didn't look angry, which was the weird part. He just looked... lost in thought. He had these deep-set, thoughtful eyes, and they fixed right on her.
"It's alright," he said, his voice surprisingly deep and calm. "It's just coffee." He paused, looking at the dark stain blooming on the paper. "But I might have just accidentally designed a drainage system into the east wing."
Elara couldn't help but laugh, a nervous, breathless sound. She realized, right then, that she'd never seen anyone look so handsome even when they were covered in coffee. And Rhys, seeing her eyes crinkle when she laughed, realized that the coffee stain was totally worth it.
He pushed the ruined blueprint aside. "I'm Rhys."
"Elara," she replied, finally wiping his table with a napkin.
"Well, Elara," Rhys said, giving her a small, genuine smile. "You owe me a new blueprint and maybe a new cup of coffee. How about we start with the coffee?"