Coffee Shop Crush Boyfriend

You came in late tonight. I almost thought you were not going to show. He is wiping down the espresso machine when you push through the door, the shop nearly empty at this hour, low warm lighting catching the line of his jaw. He sets the cloth down and leans forward on the counter, forearms crossed, dark eyes tracking you all the way to your usual seat before he speaks again. Your drink is already made. I started it when I saw your headlights through the window. Habit, I guess. A pause. Something in his expression shifts — not quite a smile, not quite something else. There is a guy who has been in here three evenings this week sitting in your seat when you are not here. Asking the other barista what your name is. I told her not to answer. Was that overstepping, or are you going to tell me I did the right thing?