Not perfect lover

Ava’s POV

The soft hum of conversation mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee as rain pattered gently against the windows. Warm light spilled from vintage lamps, casting a cozy glow over the worn wooden tables and mismatched chairs.

On the wall hung two beautiful clocks—"The Perfect Lovers," as they were affectionately called. They always moved in perfect synchronization, their hands dancing together in harmony. Watching them, I couldn't help but imaged my future lover.

It was a night like any other in the quaint coffee shop, until a regular customer walked in.

As the coffee shop prepared to close, I’m packing up the last few items and heading to the storage room in the back.

Suddenly, the power went out, plunging the room into darkness. I gasped, momentarily disoriented.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with concern.

"Yeah, I just... I can't see a thing," I replied, a nervous laugh escaping my lips.

"Let's find the electric box," he suggested. We began to fumble around in the dark, our hands brushing against each other. The touch was unexpected but not unwelcome—a small anchor in the inky blackness.

"Wait," I whispered, my heart skipping a beat. "I think we're holding hands."

He chuckled softly. "I guess we are. Do you mind?"

I paused, feeling a rush of warmth. "No, I don't mind."

In the darkness, we drew closer, our embrace growing more intimate. Our mutual goodwill was palpable, a connection that felt both new and familiar.

“Do you know,” He said, his voice a low rumble, “how long I’ve waited for this?”

Before I could answer—before I could even think to breathe—his hand slid behind my neck, pulling me in. We kissed, a tender and unplanned meeting of lips that left me breathless. The kiss ended as quickly as it began, leaving a lingering sense of what could be.

In that dark room, the only thing I could hear and feel was his breath. The tension between us was palpable, and the cold air only heightened our awareness of each other. What started as a simple kiss quickly evolved into something deeper, filled with raw emotion. I felt his breath mingling with mine, his soft lips pressing against mine with a tenderness that took my breath away.

The kiss continued, growing more intense with each passing second. My hands found their way to his shoulders, and he embraced me tightly, pulling me closer. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of us, lost in the moment. The warmth of his body against mine was a stark contrast to the chill in the air, and I felt a surge of emotions that I couldn't quite name.

He caressed my breast, making me moan with pleasure. His other hand was encircling my womanhood, feeling the sudden urge to enter him, but he kept his pace, making me feel desire for more.

Breath caught in my throat as his hand held my breast pulling the flesh towards him. His tongue slipped and slid over my nipples and he started to suck harder as I arched my back towards him.

When we finally pulled apart, the clock’s hands had moved, resuming their dance through seconds and minutes. I opened my eyes to Logan’s, the dark blue of his gaze now warmer, deeper, as if we’d shared a secret neither of us could put into words.

But when we got closer to each other again, the blaring sound of my alarm jolted me out of sleep. I couldn’t fathom why I had dreamed about something so distant, but the pressing reality of work nudged me forward. Still groggy, I finally arrived at Social Circle, my current workplace.

As I walked into the office, I was confused that the room was draped in red and pink streamers, little heart-shaped decorations swaying with the slight draft from the hallway. It looked like Cupid himself had crashed into the office.

And here was a buzz of excitement among my colleagues. They were gathered around the bulletin board with a poster, discussing the upcoming  activities that the company was planning.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Emma’s bright voice snapped me out of my daze. She beamed at me from across the room, her cheeks flushed with enthusiasm.

I took a deep breath, rolling my eyes at the sudden festivity. Valentine’s Day, a day to be reminded that romance could be a fairy tale for others but a tired story for me. The dream’s ghost whispered at the back of my mind, and I shoved it aside with a sigh.

Emma pointed at the poster plastered near the bulletin board. It featured two clocks perfectly synchronized, below the tagline: The Perfect Lover.

"Isn't it romantic?" Emma gushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “If I could, I wish... well, maybe someday I’ll find someone like that.” She looked wistful, as if picturing a romance pulled straight from the movies.

I forced a smile, trying to share in their enthusiasm. "Yeah, it sounds... interesting."

One of my colleagues, Clara, noticed my lack of enthusiasm. "What's wrong, Ava? Don't you like the idea?"

I sighed, shaking my head slightly. "It's just... there are no perfect lovers in reality. It's a nice idea, but it's not realistic."

The truth is, if someone did show up who checked off all those boxes, wouldn’t they were a fraud?  I just thought but didn’t speak.

Sensing the awkwardness, she quickly changed the topic. "Anyway, did you hear about the big news? Our original cooperation company is going to be acquired by a major corporation. They're sending their CEO to inspect our company."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s big news. Which company was it?”

“Tech Form Innovations. And guess what? The new CEO is young, brilliant, and...” Emma paused dramatically, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Incredibly handsome. But not in that annoyingly perfect way—he’s got this approachable, down-to-earth vibe. It’s refreshing.”

A strange, inexplicable tug pulled at my thoughts as she spoke. Something about this mystery CEO sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I brushed it off, chalking it up to coincidence. “Handsome CEOs, huh? You’ve said that before. Remember that time you insisted that the new advertising model was single and probably never dated? Only to find out he had an army of ex-girlfriends?”

Emma’s face turned a faint shade of pink, and she rolled her eyes. “That was different, Ava!”

Before anyone could answer, a commotion erupted from downstairs. Curious, I moved to the window and looked out, my breath catching in my throat. There, in the midst of the crowd, was a familiar figure—the last person I wanted to see in my life.

Logan.

My colleague, Emma, followed my gaze and gasped. "Oh my God, Ava! That's the new CEO!"

Even in a crowd, he was impossible to miss. He stood tall and confident, his dark suit tailored to perfection, exuding an effortless authority that made everyone around him seem smaller, less significant. His black hair caught the sunlight, and his sharp features—those piercing gray eyes, the chiseled jawline, the slight smirk tugging at his lips—were every bit as striking as I remembered.

But it wasn’t just his looks that drew attention; it was the way he carried himself. Like he owned the ground he walked on. Like the world itself bent to his will.

“Wow,” Clara whispered beside me, practically swooning. “He’s even hotter than I imagined.”

I felt a mix of emotions. How could he be here, in my world, once again? My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to process the situation.