Clorvex had never considered himself an expert in love. He was an expert in mop duels, enchanted lint traps, and dramatic monologues delivered from the pastry case but romance was usually someone else’s plot line.

Then came The List.

It was scrawled in crayon on the back of a Harmony Café napkin and found after a particularly awkward date between two amateur ghost hunters.

People Who Need Help With Love (And Don’t Know It):
1. The barista with the trauma latte eyes.
2. Vampire who sighs too poetically.
3. Mira. Just…Mira.
4. Possibly me? Existential mop review pending.

Clorvex read it again. He couldn’t recall if he wrote it but nodded solemnly and declared out loud, “Challenge accepted.”

First up was Sev. He was definitely the vampire who sighs. He had recently broken things off with the werewolf percussionist named Kip. Sev said it was mutual but Kip said Sev had commitment issues and also kept turning into mist during conversations.

Clorvex intervened mid-latte. “You’re afraid of vulnerability,” he said, handing Sev a croissant shaped like a broken heart. “And you also need a date with someone who doesn’t know the difference between Gothic and Baroque.”

“Why?” Sev asked.

“Because they’ll teach you to stop performing your feelings like a nineteenth century opera,” Clorvex answered. “You might learn to dance too.”

Sev tilted his head to the side. “That’s not the worst advice I’ve ever received.”

Mira was next on Clorvex’s list. He found her hiding behind the tea shelf and muttering about “accidental flirtation frequencies”.

“You’re spiraling,” he told her gently, handing her a cup of mint clarity blend.

“I am not,” she replied, spilling the tea and blushing at the sound of the bell over the café door.

“You’re emotionally steeped. Let me coach you.”

She didn’t agree, nor did she disagree.

Matteo on the other hand resisted Clorvex’s coaching entirely until the Queen of the Hollow Moon walked in and declared, “I need a favor, darling Matteo. And possibly your heart.”

Matteo immediately ducked behind the espresso machine. Did she mean his heart as in physically or emotionally?

Clorvex took that as a sign. Unphased, he said, “You need to come out.”

Matteo poked his head out. “What do you mean out?”

“The closet” Clorvex answered. “I already crocheted you a flag.”

Finally, Clorvex turned his attention to himself. After five journal entries, two deeply emotional conversations with the espresso machine, and one tarot reading conducted entirely with soup spoons, he reached a conclusion. Maybe being a dating coach was a distraction from his own feelings.

Jo found him on the roof at midnight, staring at the stars and writing poetry in invisible ink. “You okay?” she asked.

He held up a tiny scroll. “Can someone be in love with someone who thinks they’re just a mop enthusiast?”

Jo sat next to him, offered him a chocolate chip scone, and said, “Honestly? That’s still more stable than most relationships in this town.”

Clorvex smiled. “I’m going to start charging for my services.”

The next morning, the specials board read: Love Advice & Lattes now available. One is significantly more dangerous. Guess which.