POV: Lily Navarro

The sky had already turned navy blue by the time Lily got back to her apartment.

Her fingers were still cold. Her cheeks a little pink from the walk. And her heart?

Confused.
Buzzing.
Trying way too hard to act like she hadn’t spent an hour sitting across from Matteo Schäfer in a café like they were both normal people who did that kind of thing.

She dropped her bag at the door, swapped her boots for fuzzy socks, and wrapped herself in the fluffiest blanket she owned. Her hot chocolate mug sat empty on her nightstand, next to the open window where the Berlin chill slipped in gently—like the city was whispering, You’re still here. You’re doing it.

She opened her journal, flipped past some earlier pages, and landed on a blank one.

She hesitated for a second, then wrote:

Journal Entry – Saturday, 8:46 PM
I accidentally had hot chocolate with my desk neighbor.
I say “accidentally” because I didn’t plan for him to walk into my café, stare at me like I was a misbehaving thumbnail sketch, and then sit across from me like that’s a thing he does.
He didn’t smile. Or say much. But… he noticed me.
Like, actually noticed.
And not just my rice lunch or my pastel pens.
He remembered a detail from day one. Something I didn’t even realize he saw.
That’s... unsettling.
Also: weirdly flattering.
I don’t know if I like him.
(Okay, I do.)
But I don’t want to like him.
Because men like Matteo Schäfer don’t warm up.
They burn.

Lily closed the journal, pressing her lips into a quiet line as she leaned back against the pillows. Her heart did a slow, ridiculous flip.

She refused to read back what she wrote.

Instead, she turned the light off, let the city hum outside her window, and tried not to dream about gray eyes and coffee mugs.

Monday

The studio buzzed with quiet productivity, keyboards clicking, styluses tapping, music drifting through headphones.

Lily felt almost normal now.

Her new desk was starting to feel like hers—especially after she lined it with sticky notes in different pastel colors, a tiny plush bear keychain from Jona, and a small framed drawing of her and her friends that Mae had sent her before she left.

She was sketching poses for a new storyboard when Freya slid into the seat beside her with a sly grin.

“Ready for some eye candy?” she whispered.

Lily blinked. “Excuse me?”

“New hire,” Freya whispered. “Started today. Freelance concept artist. Temporary contract. And stupid hot.”

Lily laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I am factual,” Freya said proudly. “Look to your left. By the printer.”

Lily turned, mildly curious—

—and froze.

He was tall.
Dark hair, swept back.
Warm brown eyes that sparkled a little too easily.
Sleeves rolled up. Graphic tee under a bomber jacket. Slight stubble.
And a smile that looked like it belonged in a toothpaste commercial, except somehow less fake.

He was chatting with Lena, who was clearly impressed. He laughed at something she said, then turned—and caught Lily looking.

She immediately looked away. Too late.

He smirked.

A minute later, he walked over.

Freya’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god, he’s coming here. This is better than Netflix.”

Lily wanted to vanish into her desk drawer.

“Hi,” he said, voice smooth with just a hint of Spanish accent. “You must be Lily Navarro?”

She turned to him, composed. “Yes?”

“I’m Santi,” he said, extending a hand. “Short for Santiago. New guy. Julian said you’re the best person to talk to if I want to survive the storyboarding team.”

Lily blinked. “He—he did?”

“Absolutely,” Santi said, still smiling. “He said you’ve got an eye for flow and timing. Also something about rice lunches that smell better than company food.”

She laughed, eyes narrowing. “Julian talks too much.”

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” Santi added. “Just wanted to introduce myself before I got sucked into the tablet zone.”

“You’re not,” Lily said, smiling now. “It’s nice to meet you, Santi.”

“I’ll try not to ruin your flow,” he said, pointing to her sketchpad. “But if I do, I’ll buy you a coffee. Or tea. Whatever your poison.”

“She doesn’t do coffee,” a low voice said behind them.

Lily turned.

Matteo stood a few feet away, arms crossed, face unreadable—but eyes very much on her.

“I—uh…” Lily stammered. “Yeah. No coffee.”

Santi turned, amused. “Noted. Thanks, man.”

Matteo didn’t reply. Just gave a slight nod and walked away.

Back to his desk.
Back to his silence.

But Lily saw it. The stiffness in his shoulders. The glance he shot over his shoulder when he thought no one was looking.

Freya leaned closer. “Whew. That was… chilly.”

Lily bit her lip.

It wasn’t jealousy. Not exactly.

It was something quieter.
Sharper.
Like he wasn’t used to sharing space.
Like he didn’t want to admit it was bothering him.

And suddenly, she remembered what she’d written in her journal.

Men like Matteo Schäfer don’t warm up. They burn.

She just didn’t know yet whether she was fireproof.