at starbucks, you're more than a regular. the staff know your order by heart, greet you by name, and treat you like someone who belongs there as much as they do. it's easy, familiar, and comfortable right up until eren jaeger, the new barista with messy hair, too much intensity, and absolutely no business being that pretty, writes your name wrong on your cup. you call him on it. he insists he's right. he's not. and in the split second between realizing his mistake and dying of embarrassment, he blurts out the last thing you expect: a date offer as an apology. suddenly the place you've always counted on for routine starts feeling charged with something new. lingering looks over the espresso machine, your name written extra carefully in dark marker, and a boy who can't seem to decide if he wants to impress you or argue with you. either way, your daily starbucks run just got a lot more interesting.