But how many times in life can you experience moments when your heart races and you can barely get the words out?

  I haven't been in a retionship, but I know that someone who believes in love should cherish every moment of excitement and then bravely pursue the next one, and the one after that, and the one after that.

  -------------

  Then the scene of the story shifts back to the café.

  Perhaps it's because the name of the café is so romantic, which naturally attracts people with romantic personalities or those who are easily inclined to romantic thoughts. If you don't count the rowdy group of high school students and the random troublemaker.

  The person I like is sitting less than five steps away from me.

  At a café called “Waiting for Someone,” at 8:30 PM, on a small purple wooden table, two ttes that he ordered.

  One for himself and one for his girlfriend.

  His name is Ze Yu.

  Yang Zeyu.

  “So?” His girlfriend.

  “So, this weekend I have to go to Kaohsiung to rent a taxi cab, so I really can’t accompany you to the css reunion. You know I almost became the best debater st year, and this year's topic is really interesting. Plus, as president, I have to lead the team…”

  Ze Yu said slowly.

  His girlfriend, my rival in love, wore an expression that clearly showed she couldn't understand, not even taking a sip of her coffee.

  I pretended to be wiping the gss nearby, but in reality, I was eavesdropping on their conversation.

  During the 26 times I secretly listened in, I also got to know Ze Yu.

  Ze Yu is a third-year student in the Department of Computer Science at Jiaoda and the president of the debate club.

  (T/N: Jioda (交大, Jiāodà) is a common abbreviation for Jiaotong University (交通大學, Jiāotōng Dàxué). It typically refers to National Chiao Tung University (NCTU, 國立交通大學)—a prestigious university in Hsinchu, Taiwan, known for its excellence in engineering, computer science, and business. In 2021, NCTU merged with National Yang-Ming University (NYMU) to form National Yang Ming Chiao Tung University (NYCU, 國立陽明交通大學)).

  Everything about him is big, except for his ft, slightly gray-tinted gsses.

  His eyes are big, his hands are big, he wears size 12 shoes, and his body is big—standing at 182 cm. When I tiptoe, I can just rest my head on his warm chest. How perfectly matched we are.

  Ze Yu would occasionally come to the café, flipping through business magazines to pass the time or working on reports with his ptop.

  When he's alone, he likes to sit in his usual corner, read the same few magazines, and order the same Kenyan coffee. It's only when he's with his girlfriend that he orders her favorite tte. So considerate, so thoughtful.

  Every time he comes, I can’t hide my distracted state or the joy at the corners of my mouth. My mood for the entire evening would be so, so good.

  Even though I've only spoken to him once.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said, even his big eyes showing a hint of pleading.

  “I don’t care; you promised me st month that you’d go to my high school reunion with me! How can you break your word?” His girlfriend pouted.

  Hmph, if it were me, I'd let him go.

  Debate competitions are a gathering pce for the most brilliant minds; how could anyone stop him from pursuing his passion?

  “I'm sorry, it's all my fault. After the competition, I'll make it up to you, I promise. Look, as the president of the debate club, I couldn′t even win against you. I'm speechless; all I can do is keep apologizing...” Ze Yu kept saying.

  His tough girlfriend finally cracked a somewhat proper smile.

  Sigh, how nice would it be to argue like that, though. But as just a senior in high school, I wouldn't dare to expect anything.

  I kept wiping the gss, watching Ze Yu's reflection on it, and recalled the first time I saw him.

  Like the beginning of every romantic novel, it was a rainy day.

  It was my first day at work.

  ……………….

  Ding-dong.

  A tall figure stood at the door, calmly putting away his umbrel, even though his pants and shoes were completely soaked.

  “Ah, he looks like Takeshi Kaneshiro!” I thought to myself, observing my first customer.

  He walked over, and his shoes squeaked from being wet. His slightly square face, combined with bangs that brushed his nose, made him look just like Takeshi Kaneshiro.

  He leaned on the counter, and we were just a kiss apart.

  "Miss, I'd like a cup of Kenyan," he said.

  He paused for a moment, then smiled—the kind of smile a regur gives when they notice a new staff member.

  “Kenyan?” I looked at the owner with a pleading expression.

  At that moment, I didn’t know that Kenyan was actually a type of coffee, not some uncivilized pce in Africa. But Albus had just gone out to the bank three minutes ago, and now I was in trouble.

  “The previous barista just stepped out; you′ll have to wait a bit,” the owner zily said, sitting at the counter reading a book.

  “Then, before the Kenyan, just give me any hot drink.” He nodded and changed his order.

  He sat in the corner by a rge gss window and soon took out a ptop, which was still quite rare at the time.

  “Boss, I don’t know how to do anything. Can you teach me?” I asked the owner in a quiet voice.

  The owner reached out and lightly flicked my ear.

  “Just give him any hot drink; didn’t he say that already?”

  The owner gave me a half-smile, clearly not noticing the seven lines of frustration across my face.

  So, I had no choice but to secretly toss some unnamed coffee beans into the grinder behind the counter, stir them around haphazardly, then pour hot water over them and give it another quick stir with a spoon. I carefully carried the coffee, which smelled great but looked off, and walked over to him.

  He looked at me as I set the hot coffee in front of him, his mouth slightly open.

  “You… you forgot to filter it, didn’t you?” He smiled in a way that was really cute, but that smile made me feel incredibly embarrassed.

  Coffee grounds sadly settled at the bottom of the mug, while some floated on top, looking as though they were protesting.

  “I′m so sorry, this is my first day at work; I haven′t learned anything yet, so…”

  My ears were burning with embarrassment, and I really wanted to hop into a time machine and go back just one minute.

  “It’s okay, but… could you just give me a cup of hot water or hot tea instead?”

  He smiled at the coffee, which was giving off a heavy aura of resentment.

  Of course, I nodded quickly and rushed to pour the messy concoction back into the counter's sink, then hurriedly brought him a cup of hot water.

  The owner was secretly ughing, honestly.

  Half an hour ter, my savior Albus finally returned, and there was finally a proper cup of Kenyan coffee on his table.

  The Kenyan, with its rich, fragrant aroma.

  Somehow, in just a short conversation, I found myself liking him, someone as intense and fragrant as the Kenya coffee.