Espresso in Your Smile
Tyler Galpin x reader
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The bell above the Weathervane’s door chimed, and Tyler looked up from the espresso machine, brushing a stray lock of honey-brown hair out of his eyes. It had been a long day, the kind where every latte felt the same and every customer blurred together. But then, you walked in.
You always had that effect on him.
“Rough day?” you teased as you leaned against the counter, resting your chin in your hand. Your smile carried warmth he didn’t even realize he craved until he saw it.
“You could say that,” he admitted with a soft laugh, tugging at the string of his apron. “I think half the town is powered purely by caffeine.”
“Half the town, or just me?” you asked, arching a brow playfully.
Tyler shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Just you. But I don’t mind. You’re my favorite customer.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them, and his ears turned pink. He quickly turned to pour your drink, hoping you didn’t notice.
Of course, you noticed. You always did.
“Favorite customer, huh?” you said softly, watching the way his hands moved with surprising care as he crafted your usual order. He wasn’t just making coffee; he was making something for you. And you swore it always tasted better when he made it.
When he finally slid the cup toward you, the foam was decorated with a shaky but earnest little heart.
Your chest tightened. “Tyler…”
He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Yeah, okay, maybe it’s cheesy. But—uh—you make things better, you know? Even on the rough days.”
The café noise seemed to fade in that moment, leaving just the two of you standing in the glow of the Weathervane’s warm lights. You reached over the counter, fingers brushing his. “That’s funny. Because you do the same thing for me.”
His grin broke into something wider, softer—completely unguarded. For once, it wasn’t the practiced smile he wore for strangers. This one was only for you.
“Tell you what,” he said, voice a little husky, “when I’m off, how about I walk you home? Coffee in hand, favorite customer privileges and all.”
You lifted your cup, taking a sip. “Deal. But only if you admit the real reason you like making my drinks.”
He laughed, leaning closer over the counter so you could hear the sincerity in his whisper:
“Because it gives me an excuse to see you.”
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