10. Zyran
ZYRAN
Esperr stands behind the counter, dark purple bags beneath her blue eyes, with her blonde hair tied into a messy bun. And she’s never looked more beautiful, even as she looks at me like she’s seen a ghost.
I open my mouth to say hi, or something, hopefully anything cool, but what comes out of my mouth in a hushed whisper is, “Guess my stalking days are over.”
Her frown deepens, her gaze flicking from Taylor then back to me. “I’m sorry… what?”
Well fuck.
I step forward, my throat growing tight, and I automatically reach up towards my neck. “I’m sorry,” I grunt and then cough to clear my throat.
I should turn around and run–run so far that no one ever sees me again. And just when my weight shifts, my body turning the slightest to book it out of here, she blinks, once and then twice, her shoulder settling like she’s pulling herself back.
“Do you want your usual?” she asks, her voice just the same as I remembered.
The corner of my mouth lifts before I can stop it, not a full grin, but just enough that hers begins to lift too.
“T–the usual,” I blurt out. “Please, that would be great.”
Jesus fuck.
Esperr turns to the register and punches it in without having to really look at the screen, her eyes scanning me.
“It’ll be three forty-two,” she mutters and then reaches over to the cup. I slide my card into the reader, waiting for the prompts to come up, and then I hit the custom tip, putting a hundred on the screen before confirming.
Esperr frowns at the screen, her hand stilling over the cup before her gaze flickers up to me for a second. She opens her mouth but quickly closes it, shaking her head slightly before moving over to the espresso machine.
I step over to the side, out of the way, though there’s no one behind me. Folding my arms over my chest, I listen to the hum of the machine filling the silence.
For a second, I stood there, wondering why I ever thought coming in here while she was working was a good idea.
Not that I would show up if she weren’t—she’s the reason I come here to begin with.
This place is neutral, somewhere I could watch without being seen.
But now I’m back to standing in front of her, waiting for that coffee I don’t like, but I’ll drink it because she made it.
Though I could have turned around the moment I saw her, I could have let the bell ring behind me and just disappeared. It would’ve been better.
Instead, I’m planted in this spot, eyes tracking every little movement—her shoulders tense at the sounds from the kitchen.
The way she leans into the machine to see what she’s doing, then leans back as steam curls up and the machine hisses.
And then the way she grabs the cup without truly looking at it, like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
The entire time I watch her, I tell myself it’s just because I wanted proof—something that tells me she was real, that I didn’t just imagine the way she looked at me. That whatever had me in her orbit wasn’t just in my head.
“Here you go,” Esperr says, holding the coffee out.
I blink, frowning for a second before I realize that I should probably take the coffee from her.
Reaching out, our fingers brush against each other—it’s just enough to send a sharp awareness up my arm and down my spine.
She stills, breath catching so quietly I almost miss it, and for a tiny second, maybe two, neither of us moves.
She’s the first to move back, too quick, like I’d been the one to catch her on fire. I curl my fingers around the cup, the cold anchoring me to the floor because if it weren’t for the cool liquid, I’d probably melt to the ground from a fraction of her touch.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
She nods, the corner of her lip picking up just a smudge. “I uh… last time you had mentioned liking it sweeter, so…” She glances off before taking a deep breath. “I had added extra syrup, like before.”
I nod, unable to form words like an idiot, and then turn towards the door, ready to march back outside and to my truck, where I can be alone with my thoughts.
But my body hesitates, caught between the weight of the bell, where I watched her head snap up every time it rang.
And then the pull of the corner table, the one half hidden by the plant near the window.
The one where I can see the whole room without really being seen myself.
I shouldn’t be surprised when my boots carry me before my head catches up—the chair scraping softly as I pull it out and then sit. The ice clinks together as I tip it back, taking a sip.
My gaze drifts to the windows, to the street outside, trying to stop my mind sliding sideways, slipping into that place it goes when I don’t have anything to distract me.
I shouldn’t have come.
Not because of her—because of what this does to me. Because of how easy it is to forget where I am when she’s this close. It’s how the world narrows until there’s only the smell of her lavender and coffee, the way it echoes against my skin.
There was a time when I laughed too loudly, took up space without a thought, wasn’t worried about counting exits, or searching for what was in the shadows.
When Cyran would shake his head at me, smiling before telling me to stop being an idiot before I got us both killed.
You’re gonna get snuck up on one day, Zy, he’d tell me, all grin and no worry before clapping me on the back.
I’d always laugh because I was faster, better, and nothing bad had happened yet.
Dark and metal, the wet sound of something hitting the floor.
“R–Ra—” My voice is cut off as something punches its way through my neck.
A metallic taste covers my tongue as my knees give out?—
“Hey,” a voice filters through my memories.
My chest tightens, breath catching just enough that I hate the gasp that comes next. For a split second, I’m not in the coffee shop, but I’m back there, where I stopped laughing and watched them drag my older brother away.
My head lifts fast, muscles already coiling, while my heart slams against my rib cage and the skin around my neck pulls tight and uncomfortable.
Esperr stands in front of me, close enough that I can smell the soap wafting off her, the cactus flower that’s being taken over by coffee. The last time someone snuck up on me ended with me being shot, and I hate that it’s happened again, only this time it was here.
And for a reason unknown, it scares me more than it should.
When I look up at her, she doesn’t step back; instead, she pulls out the chair across from me and sits, resting her elbows on the table.
“Relax,” she says quietly, the corner of her mouth lifting. “I’m not here to bite.”
My pulse takes a second to catch up with the room again, thudding against my skull as I fully look at her. Esperr's blue eyes are darker than I thought, more like the deep ocean than the sky—she holds my gaze the entire time, not once shying away like most.
I wish she’d bite me.
The thought hits me, and I have to swallow it down before I blurt it. I lean forward, hoping to hide the half-mass hard-on I have going on. “Could’ve fooled me,” I finally say. “You’re light on your feet.”
She raises a brow, biting the inside of her cheek. “I’ve had practice,” she shrugs, tilting her head. “You looked like you were somewhere else.”
I open my mouth and then shut it, having no idea what to say. Dragging a hand over my jaw, I feel the stubble I’ve been meaning to shave and then take a drink just to buy a few more seconds.
“Just thinking.”
She hums, clearly not buying it, and shifts in her chair, crossing a leg over the other beneath the table. It’s a small, casual movement, something that shouldn’t mean anything, but oddly it does; it means she plans on staying, even if it’s for a minute.
“Thinking usually doesn’t make people look like they’re about to bolt,” she points out. "So, are you gonna tell me why you disappeared, or should I guess?”
My breath hitches for a second before a laugh bubbles out of me. Out of all the things I’d imagine with her, I don’t think I ever thought she was this straightforward and blunt.
“You always put people on the spot like this?” I ask, smirking. I lift the coffee to my lips, taking a sip, and it’s not until I set it down that I see her gaze drop—following the movement of my hand as my fingers brush my neck, thumb pressing lightly like it always does when I’m remembering.
“What happened?” she asks.
I blink, my hand falling like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. “What?”
She gestures subtly at me with her chin. “Your neck.”
My hands curl into fists against the table, a twitch in my brow while my pulse jumps—I knew people were eventually going to ask. But the question hits me like a fucking truck.
“Working accident,” I say, cracking my knuckles.
Her eyes flick from my neck to my eyes, with an eye twitch before she’s shrugging one shoulder. “Sounds like a weird job.”
I huff out a breath mixed with a laugh. “Yes, it is.”
She doesn’t ask what I do, and after thirty seconds of her just staring at me, I realize she’s not going to. And that’s the strange part. Most people push; curiosity always wins, especially when someone isn’t used to being around death. They want a story and details; they want to know everything.
And what’s worse is I can see it written all over her face.
I can see the questions in the way her brows knit for half a second and how her mouth parts like she might say something but decides not to.
It’s almost like she’s standing on the edge of a thousand words, weighing which ones might cost too much.
“Did you know most car accidents happen within five minutes of home?”
I look up, frowning at the sudden change of subject. “What?”
She winces slightly like she didn’t mean to blurt something out. “My bad, I don’t know why that came out.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. “Well, that’s very reassuring."
She smiles. “It’s a statistics thing. People relax; they get careless, thinking they can do whatever they want cause they’re right there.”
“It almost sounds like I should stop driving.”
She shrugs, eyes flickering to the window and then back to me. “I don’t suggest that, but maybe just be more careful.”
“Think you’d miss me too much?” I ask, not realizing what I asked until the words had already left my mouth.
She raises a brow, almost amused. “I think I’d have to know you a little more than just a guy who got coffee from me every day for a year before disappearing.”
Ouch.
I had doubted that she even noticed my absence, but hearing it for the first time—the fact that she had—cracked part of my chest open.
“I, unfortunately, have to get going,” she says suddenly, getting to her feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow?—"
“Yes,” I quickly said. Because if I ever had a single thought about coming back, I would be now. I don’t think I can stay away anymore.
“I guess we’ll see,” she mutters and then slips away before I have a chance to say anything else.
The door barely has a chance to close before I’m up and following her out.