Klay Kingston had imagined meeting Amara Brooks in person at least a dozen different ways.
In some versions it happened casually—he'd walk past her on campus, recognize her instantly, and she'd laugh when he awkwardly introduced himself. In others, she'd spot him first and tease him about how different he looked outside of a laptop screen.
But none of those scenarios prepared him for the reality of standing outside the campus coffee shop at eleven in the morning with his heart beating like he'd just run a mile.
He checked his phone again.
Amara:
I'm two minutes away. Don't leave.
Klay typed back quickly.
Klay:
I'm here.
The coffee shop sat near the center of campus, a small brick building surrounded by trees that were just beginning to lose their leaves. Students passed by constantly—some heading to class, others laughing with friends or carrying stacks of books.
Klay leaned against the wall near the entrance and tried to look relaxed.
He wasn't.
His mind kept replaying their late-night conversations from the past week.
Since that first call, they had spoken every night.
Sometimes on FaceTime. Sometimes just texting until three in the morning.
They talked about everything—classes, childhood memories, stupid campus drama, music, movies. The conversations flowed so easily that Klay often forgot they had technically only known each other for a few days.
Still, meeting in person felt different.
More real.
More dangerous.
He heard footsteps approaching from behind and turned instinctively.
And there she was.
Amara Brooks looked almost exactly like she did on camera—but somehow sharper, brighter, more alive.
Her hair was pulled back loosely, a few strands framing her face. She wore ripped jeans, white sneakers, and a dark green jacket that hung slightly oversized on her shoulders.
When she spotted him, her lips curved into a small grin.
"Klay?"
He straightened instinctively.
"Amara."
For a second they just looked at each other.
It was strange seeing someone you'd spent hours talking to through a screen standing a few feet away in the real world.
"You're taller than I expected," she said.
He laughed softly.
"You're shorter."
"Wow."
"Not in a bad way."
She rolled her eyes.
"Great first impression."
They both laughed, and just like that, the tension eased.
"Come on," she said, pushing open the coffee shop door. "I need caffeine before I start judging you properly."
The smell of espresso and warm pastries filled the air as they stepped inside. Students sat at small tables scattered throughout the shop, most of them hunched over laptops or textbooks.
Klay followed Amara to the counter.
"What are you getting?" she asked.
"Coffee."
She looked unimpressed.
"That's not a real answer."
"Black coffee."
"That's even worse."
He shrugged.
"Simple."
"Boring."
She ordered a caramel latte and a croissant, while Klay stuck with his black coffee. They carried their drinks to a small table near the window.
Sunlight spilled across the tabletop as they sat down.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Amara studied him openly.
"You look different," she said finally.
"Different good or different bad?"
"Different real."
He wasn't sure how to respond to that.
"You're quieter in person," she added.
"Just processing."
"Processing what?"
"That you're actually real."
She smiled faintly.
"Same."
They sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Amara leaned forward slightly.
"So," she said, resting her chin in her hand. "Are you always this nervous?"
"I'm not nervous."
"You're fidgeting with your cup."
Klay looked down.
He was.
"Habit," he muttered.
She laughed softly.
"Relax. I don't bite."
"Good to know."
"Unless someone deserves it."
"Should I be worried?"
"Depends," she said with a teasing smirk. "Do you deserve it?"
He shook his head.
"Hopefully not."
Amara took a sip of her latte and sighed contentedly.
"This is the best part of mornings."
"Coffee?"
"Peace before the chaos."
Klay nodded slowly.
He liked the way she talked—casual but thoughtful, like she always had a dozen ideas floating around in her head.
"So," she said suddenly. "Tell me something about you I don't know."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Like what?"
"Anything."
He thought for a moment.
"I used to play basketball."
"Used to?"
"Yeah."
"What happened?"
He shrugged.
"Life."
"That's vague."
"High school ended. Work got in the way. Other stuff."
Amara watched him carefully.
"You avoid details a lot."
"Do I?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe I just don't like oversharing."
She smirked.
"You told me about getting cheated on five times."
"That was different."
"How?"
"You asked."
"I'm asking now."
Klay sighed.
"Fine."
He leaned back slightly.
"My dad started making serious money when I was around sixteen."
"You mentioned that."
"Yeah, but before that we were basically broke. Like… really broke."
Amara's expression softened.
"That must've been rough."
"It was normal to me."
"Do you see him much now?"
"Not really."
"Why?"
"He's always working."
"That's kind of ironic."
"What?"
"He worked nonstop to build a life for you… and now you barely see him."
Klay gave a humorless smile.
"Yeah."
Amara looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead she took another sip of her drink.
The conversation shifted after that—back to classes, professors, random stories from campus life.
It felt easy.
Natural.
Almost too natural.
Which is why Klay barely noticed the three guys approaching their table until one of them spoke.
"Amara."
She looked up immediately.
"Oh hey."
The guy who had spoken was tall, athletic, with neatly styled hair and a confident grin.
Two other guys stood behind him.
Friends, clearly.
Klay felt the familiar tightening in his chest.
"Who's this?" the guy asked casually, nodding toward him.
Amara gestured toward Klay.
"This is Klay."
Then she turned to Klay.
"Klay, this is Ryan."
Ryan extended a hand.
Klay shook it.
"Nice to meet you."
Ryan's grip was firm.
A little too firm.
"You new around here?" Ryan asked.
"Not really."
"Haven't seen you before."
"I keep to myself."
Ryan chuckled.
"Probably smart."
Amara rolled her eyes.
"Ryan, don't start."
"Start what?"
"You know what."
Ryan raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Relax. I'm just talking."
Klay stayed quiet.
But he noticed something.
Ryan stood close to Amara.
Comfortably close.
Like he was used to being in her space.
Like he belonged there.
And suddenly Klay remembered something she had said during one of their late-night calls.
I have a lot of guy friends.
Ryan glanced at his watch.
"We're heading to the gym," he said. "You coming later?"
"Maybe," Amara replied.
"Cool."
Ryan looked at Klay one more time before turning away.
"Nice meeting you, man."
"You too."
The three guys left the coffee shop a moment later.
Klay watched them through the window as they walked across campus.
Then he looked back at Amara.
She was already watching him.
"You're doing it again," she said.
"Doing what?"
"That jealous thing."
"I'm not jealous."
"You totally are."
He sighed.
"They seem… close to you."
"They're my friends."
"Yeah."
"And?"
"Nothing."
Amara leaned forward slightly.
"Klay."
"What?"
"You knew I had guy friends."
"I know."
"So why does it bother you?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth sounded ridiculous even in his own head.
Because every time someone got close to me before, they betrayed me.
Instead he just shrugged.
"Habit."
Amara studied him for a moment.
Then she sighed.
"You're going to have to work on that."
"Yeah."
"Because if we're going to be friends—"
"Friends?"
She smirked.
"For now."
Klay felt something twist inside his chest.
"Right," he said quietly.
For now.