The third time, they met that next morning. Kristina arrived late—traffic, or so she said, though Theo suspected it was more about the emotional drag of returning to the site of something that felt increasingly important. She wore the same hoodie again, a badge of inside-joke now, and when she shrugged off the baggy sleeves, Theo reached over, half-embarrassed, to straighten the hem where it had folded in on itself.

  Their hands touched, just for a second. She felt his knuckles, warm and dry, and the faint brush of his thumbnail as he made a joke about “proper hoodie maintenance.” She laughed, then covered her mouth, suddenly shy.

  They sat for a while, mostly in silence, watching the world beyond the window. The streets were still wet from a passing storm, and cars sent up miniature waves as they turned the corner. Inside, the café felt different—intimate, almost domestic. The staff had started to recognize them, or at least Theo, and this time the coffee came without a menu or a question.

  It was Kristina who broke the quiet. “My boss is going to kill me,” she said, pulling her phone out and glancing at the notifications. “I’ve missed, like, four check-in calls.”

  Theo tilted his head, a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth. “You want to go?”

  “No,” she said, too quickly. Then, softer: “Not yet.”

  He nodded, as if he’d known that all along. “You know, I don’t even know your last name,” he said. “You could be an international jewel thief for all I know.”

  She grinned, the tension in her shoulders easing. “If I were, would I be this bad at deflecting you?”

  He considered. “Maybe you’re just that good.”

  She shook her head, but the smile stayed. For a while, they didn’t speak, letting the noise of the espresso machine and the low hum of other people’s conversations fill the space between them.

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  When it was time to go, Kristina stood first. She adjusted her sunglasses, then hesitated, caught in the awkward choreography of not wanting to leave but not knowing how to delay any longer.

  Theo helped her with the hoodie, lifting the hood over her head with both hands. Their faces were close, and for a moment he looked like he was about to say something important. But instead he just let the hood fall gently, framing her face.

  Outside, they paused at the curb. The evening had deepened, and the streetlights cast shifting pools of gold along the sidewalk.

  “Can I walk you to your car?” Theo asked.

  “I took a Lyft,” she replied, glancing down the block. “But I would love for you to wait with me.”

  They stood together, side by side, watching the traffic. Kristy checked her phone again, scrolling through the missed calls and unread texts. She didn’t respond to any of them.

  A car pulled up, headlights pooling around their feet. It was her ride.

  She started to get in, then stopped, turning to face him. For a moment, neither of them moved.

  Then, on impulse, Theo leaned forward and kissed her.

  It was quick and awkward, mostly their noses, but they both laughed after, and she kissed him again, just to see if it would go better the second time. It did.

  She stepped back, surprised by her own boldness. “Guess I’m not a total disaster after all,” she said.

  “Not even close,” Theo replied.

  She got into the car, rolled the window down, and gave a two-fingered wave. He watched as she disappeared down the street, and didn’t move until the taillights were gone.

  Kristina spent the ride home looking at her reflection in the window, touching her lips and smiling for no one. When she walked into her building, her phone rang. She almost didn’t answer, but then she saw it was her dad, and she wanted to hear his voice.

  “Hi, Papi,” she said, breathless and happy.

  He asked how her day was, and she told him, skipping the part about the kiss and her growing relationship with Theo—not as a pop-star, but as a person who liked messy things and dance-in-your-kitchen pop songs.

  When she hung up, she leaned against the wall of her apartment, grinning, a strange new sense of possibility building inside her.

  For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t performing for anyone. She was just herself, and that was more than enough.