Some love stories are written in the stars. Ours was written in spilled coffee, sarcastic banter, and one unbelievable revelation that turned everything I thought I knew about my boyfriend upside down.
Jack and I met in the least romantic way possible—by me spilling an entire iced latte all over his neatly stacked paperwork at a coffee shop. Mortified, I scrambled for napkins, but he just chuckled. “Guess this is fate telling me to take a break!”
We ended up talking for hours, and from that moment on, we just clicked.
Jack always preferred hanging out at his place, which I didn’t question since my roommate wasn’t a fan of guests. His tiny studio apartment was in a rundown part of town, and everything about it was, well… interesting.
The heater had a mind of its own, the couch looked like it had survived a war, and his kitchen consisted of a single hot plate. But I wasn’t in this for luxury—I liked Jack for who he was.
