Zuri didn't mean to flirt. It just… happened.
She'd only popped into Java for a quick coffee, hoping to grab a moment's peace before the madness of university life took over. First day jitters weren't new — Zuri Kendi had learned how to walk into any room with her head up and her heart tucked away safe. But today, something pulled her in, something she couldn't quite explain.
It wasn't the usual buzz of the espresso machines or the comfy booths filled with students glued to their laptops.
It was The Art of War.
She spotted the worn black and gold hardcover right away. The spine looked well-thumbed — a sign it was more than just a book to the guy reading it. And the guy? Well, he was hard to ignore. Black shirt, sleeves rolled up, lean arms casually flexing as one finger traced the page like he was memorizing every word. There was something about how he read — intense, focused, like the book was his whole world.
Zuri stopped dead.
Her favorite book. And, honestly, her favorite type of guy—quiet, intense, a little mysterious.
The café was packed. No free tables anywhere except the one across from him.
Normally, she'd have kept walking. But today, without thinking, her feet moved forward.
"Is that Sun Tzu?" she asked, nodding at the book as she got closer.
He looked up slowly, eyes locking with hers. Dark brown, calm but sharp — the kind of eyes that see more than you let on.
"Yeah," he said, voice smooth, with a hint of surprise. "Didn't expect anyone to recognize it."
Zuri shrugged, smiling a little. "Not many girls come up to talk military strategy."
"Not lately," he admitted, closing the book gently and giving her a once-over. "You into it?"
She nodded, adjusting her sling bag. "Read it when I was sixteen. Changed the way I look at things. The chapter about knowing your enemy? Pure gold."
His eyebrow lifted. "Should I be worried?"
She laughed softly, feeling a little more relaxed. "Only if you give me a reason."
A pause hung between them — quiet, but full of something neither said.
"Mind if I sit?" she asked, voice a bit softer.
He motioned to the chair. "It's a free country."
She slid into the seat, catching a barista's eye without breaking focus. "Americano, no sugar."
He chuckled. "You take your coffee like you take your books—no nonsense."
She smirked. "I take my coffee how life hands it—bitter, hot, and sometimes hard to swallow."
His lips twitched into a half-smile. "I'm Maloba."
"Zuri."
He repeated it like it was a secret. "Zuri."
She felt a little warmth curl inside her chest, and quickly looked away, playing with the ring on her finger.
"So, what brings you here?" he asked, lifting his cup like a toast.
"Starting fresh," she said, shrugging.
"University?"
"Law," she answered.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. "Trying to change the world?"
She smiled faintly. "More like trying to understand it."
"Good answer," he said, leaning forward. "You're not like most freshers I've met."
"Oh? You meet a lot?"
"Enough. And you're different."
She bit her lip, then let out a soft breath. "What about you, Maloba? What do you do?"
He paused longer than expected. "Consultant."
"For what?"
He grinned. "A bit of everything."
She narrowed her eyes, but didn't push. Mystery was more attractive anyway. Some guys were open books; Maloba felt like one you had to earn the right to read.
They talked — about books, Nairobi, coffee, and why people disappear after good conversations. Time slipped away.
She laughed when he admitted his secret love for cheesy 90s movies. She shared hers — the romantic comedies she swore no one knew she watched.
Sunlight shifted, casting soft shadows. He glanced at his phone, reluctant to break the spell.
"I should go," he said, stretching. The way his shirt rode up showed just a hint of skin.
She stood too, grabbing her drink, surprised by how light she felt.
"This was… unexpected," she said.
"Good unexpected?"
She nodded, smiling. "Very."
He walked her out slowly. The Nairobi air was warm and smelled like roasted coffee beans and fresh rain.
When his fingers brushed hers—just barely—it felt electric.
"See you around, Zuri," he said, voice low.
She raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
"Oh, you will."
And then he disappeared into the Nairobi
afternoon, leaving her heart doing things it shouldn't—for a stranger who already felt like something more.