Marilyn's Shadow

The air in the café was thick with the comforting aroma of roasted coffee beans and the gentle hum of conversation. Zoid, nestled in a corner booth with a half-finished latte, watched Luke across the table. He was laughing at something she’d said, his blonde hair falling just so over his forehead, those impossible emerald eyes crinkling at the corners. It was a sight that still made her stomach do a ridiculous little flip. They’d been meeting like this, cautiously, for a few weeks now, each encounter chipping away a little more at the wall of insecurity Zoid had built around herself.

“Seriously, you’re telling me you actually *enjoyed* that?” Luke asked, his voice laced with amusement.

Zoid took a deliberate sip of her latte, the warmth spreading through her. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. There’s a certain… satisfaction in mastering the art of the perfectly folded fitted sheet.”