Chapter 3
Author’s Note:
This was not meant to be a coffee shop AU, but it seems like I spend way too much time writing in coffee shops to completely avoid this. If you want an actual coffee shop AU, though, make sure to check out the next book in the series by KC Carmine!
Rowan
“And what can I get for you, handsome?” the barista asked, winking one of his striking blue eyes up at Rowan.
“Just a black coffee, please,” Rowan said, ducking his head to try to avoid the guy’s flirtatious gaze. “And whatever he’s having.”
“Aw, thanks, man,” Troy said, stepping up beside him. The blonde barista had to actually tip his head back to look up at Troy.
Growing up, Rowan had always thought his family was abnormally tall, but then he’d met Troy’s family.
They were all well over six feet, whereas Rowan’s family sat just around the six-foot mark.
Well, all except his omega mom. She was short and stocky, like her red-tailed hawk.
Despite three of the four kids turning out to be hawk shifters, they’d all inherited their alpha ma’s height.
She was an albatross shifter with the largest wingspan in the world.
Riley was the other albatross kid, and one would think that would make her the odd one out, but that had always been Rowan.
He wasn’t playful and chaotic like Ruben, Raina, or his omega mom, but he also wasn’t as intense and driven as Riley and his alpha ma.
His hawk shifted restlessly from foot to foot, and Rowan fought the urge to suck on the inside of his cheek. It was a bad habit he’d always had, similar to how his bird would pick at his feathers when stressed.
He didn’t know what he or his bird had to be stressed about, though. It was a busy day in the office, but that had become the norm as of late. His weekly ritual of getting coffee with Troy was usually one of the least stressful parts of his week.
They stepped off to the side to wait for their drinks, and his hawk spread his wings right as Rowan caught a flash of something out of the corner of his eye.
“Do you want to check in on how your first meeting with Rexford Shipping Co. went?” Troy asked.
Rowan nodded absently as he scanned the room, his eyes landing on a short man with a shock of black hair.
At first, Rowan wasn’t sure what had caught his attention.
The man was cute but not particularly standout-ish.
Then, Rowan’s eyes landed on a familiar blonde, who was practically attached to the shorter man’s side.
He’d thought about Milo more than was probably healthy the past week, but it was like his hawk wouldn’t let it rest. Rowan watched as the two of them approached the register, and Milo seemed to order for both of them, gesturing wildly with their hand one moment, only to settle their hand in the middle of the other man’s back the next.
Was this Milo’s boyfriend? No, they’d said they had an ex, and…their ex had an ex? Or something? Was this the ex’s ex?
Milo laughed at something the barista said, their head thrown back and gray eyes almost entirely closed. As if by accident—or a trick of fate—Milo’s head lolled to the side, and their eyes landed on Rowan.
Milo’s body stiffened, and they jerked their chin down to stare at Rowan. Their friend—or whoever he was—noticed immediately, following Milo’s gaze over to Rowan. Recognition flashed across his face, and he whispered fiercely to Milo.
“Rowan, here’s your coffee,” a barista called, and Rowan stepped forward, also grabbing Troy’s drink when it was announced a moment later.
When he turned back around, he found the two shorter shifters standing right next to him.
“Hiya, stranger,” Milo said, waggling their fingers while the black-haired shifter stared at Rowan with wide, piercing green eyes.
“Hi,” Rowan gruffed, clutching the two coffees to his chest.
“Did you enjoy your pew pew, bang bang movie?” Milo asked, and the shorter shifter stopped staring at Rowan to roll his eyes.
“It was as good as any other action movie,” Rowan said as his hawk began bobbing his head up and down. “How was yours?”
“Horrid, but that’s what I was expecting, so I guess it didn’t disappoint,” Milo said, grinning widely at Rowan.
They had an interesting smile. It was a little too wide, just like they were wearing a few too many colors, and they talked a little too fast. And yet, Rowan’s hawk seemed happier than it had been all week. He fluttered his wings and bobbed his head like he was listening to music.
“Rowan?” Troy asked, coming up beside him, his neck craned down at a painful-looking angle to look at his phone. When he glanced up, he did a double take at the two shifters in front of them. “Oh, hello. Are you…friends of Rowan’s?”
Rowan hoped the others couldn’t hear the clear skepticism in Troy’s voice.
He knew just as well as Rowan did that Rowan didn’t have any friends outside of his siblings.
And sometimes, even the four of them would go days without talking to each other.
Troy was the only person he saw on a regular basis.
“More like acquaintances in the running to becoming friends,” Milo said, their smile never leaving their face.
The more Rowan stared at it, the more endearing it became. He interacted with enough uptight business folk day in and day out to recognize a fake smile and false cheer. There wasn’t a speck of insincerity in Milo’s demeanor, as if they were genuinely happy to be there.
Troy took his coffee gingerly out of Rowan’s claw-like grip. “Do your soon-to-be friends have names?” Troy asked, casting Rowan an even more disbelieving look.
“Oh, yes, sorry,” Rowan said, wiping his sweaty palm on his slacks. “Troy, this is Milo. I met—”
Damn. Rowan had been using they/them for Milo in his head, but he didn’t actually know if that was what they preferred today.
“Sorry, Milo, is they/them okay for you today?”
Milo’s smile was replaced by a look of blank shock. The barista called out a name, and then another, and all the while Milo stood there with absolutely no expression.
Troy cleared his throat, and Milo seemed to snap back into themself, their grin spreading until it took up their entire face. “They/them would be great. I really appreciate you asking!”
The dark-haired shifter gaped at Milo, but Milo just smiled innocently back.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Milo,” Troy said, stepping forward to offer his hand.
“Lovely to meet you as well. Should I assume by your nice outfits that you’re on a very important business coffee date?” Milo asked, shaking Troy’s hand with gusto.
Troy’s eyes once again flicked to Rowan as if he could explain Milo and their eccentricities. “Hardly. We always grab coffee here on Wednesdays. A sort of mid-week reset.”
Troy turned to face the shorter shifter, and there was an awkward moment of silence before Milo straightened up and said, “Oh! This is Ray! Rowan, I think I told you about him?” They gestured at Ray like a game show host.
Ray shook his head but held out his hand to Troy. “I’m assuming that means Milo shared that at one point we were both dating the same guy and are now best friends who work together.”
Milo snorted derisively. “At one point, as in, at the same point, because he was a piece of—”
“Apple crisp latte for Milo and an unsweetened macchiato for Ray,” the barista called.
Milo snapped their mouth shut and pivoted on their heels to grab the drinks. In their absence, Ray held out his hand to Rowan.
Rowan’s hawk let out a keening cry, like he always did anytime Rowan had to touch another person.
Of course, working in the business industry, he did a lot of handshaking and was subject to a lot of bro-y backslaps and shoulder pats.
Over the years, he had trained himself not to flinch, and most of the time, he managed to hide his grimace, but he would still prefer to wave or nod.
Even though his hawk was making quite the racket, a wave or nod would obviously not be appropriate right now. As his alpha ma liked to say, this wasn’t the time or place for Rowan to make a scene. So, he held out his hand and forced his fingers to uncurl into an approximation of a hand shape.
“Here you go, Ray,” Milo said, shoving Ray’s coffee into his outstretched hand. “Your boring, totally not exciting macchiato, just like you get every Tuesday and Thursday.”
Relief so potent he could practically taste it flooded through Rowan. He shoved his raised hand in his pocket as he avoided Troy’s wide-eyed look.
Everyone in Rowan’s family was well versed in his aversion to touch.
It hadn’t started for any particular reason.
His omega mom had initially blamed herself, afraid that she hadn’t held Rowan enough as a baby, but a childhood psychologist had assured her that wasn’t the case.
Rowan was hypersensitive to touch, especially surprise or unexpected touch, and had some sensory aversions to certain textures and flavors.
For the most part, he’d grown out of the last one, but the touch aversion remained.
There were exceptions and tricks, like having at least one layer—if not more—of clothing between him and another person.
He and his moms had eventually developed blanket and pillow strategies for snuggling that they could all live with, and although it had taken his siblings a little while to accept it, they were now very respectful of his aversion, even if they didn’t understand it.
Troy had done his best in the office to enforce that a nod was an acceptable greeting for all staff members, regardless of their position in the company, and he would intercept hugs or back pats for Rowan whenever he could.
By the way Troy was staring a hole into the side of Rowan’s head, he had probably guessed what Rowan had as well. For some reason, Milo had intercepted Ray’s handshake on Rowan’s behalf.
“I guess that must be why we’ve never seen you around,” Ray said, and all attention turned to him, and away from whatever had just happened.