13. Olivia #2
Ben studied me for a second longer, then nodded. "All right. But seriously—tacos. Think about it."
"I will."
I turned toward the fridge to grab more almond milk, reaching for the handle—
And froze.
Rhys stood three feet away, silent as stone. Dark eyes locked on me with an intensity that stole the air from my lungs.
My breath caught. Heart stuttered. How long had he been standing there? "Oh—um." The words tumbled out too fast. "Coach Ackerman. I didn't see you."
"Clearly."
The single word landed heavy, controlled, carrying weight I couldn't decipher. His expression gave nothing away—no anger, no amusement, just that unreadable mask he wore like armor.
Ben shifted beside me, stepping back half a foot. The easy warmth from seconds ago vanished, replaced by sharp tension that made my skin prickle.
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to fill the silence with apologies I didn't owe. My hands twisted in my apron. "Did you need something?"
Rhys's gaze flicked to Ben for half a second—brief, assessing, cold enough to make my pulse spike—then returned to me. "Coffee."
Right. Coffee. That made sense. This was a café. People came here for coffee.
So why did it feel like he'd come for something else entirely?
"Black?" The word came out steadier than I felt. I already knew the answer, but I felt like I had to fill the silence.
"Yeah."
I nodded and turned toward the machine, hyper-aware of every movement under his stare. My hands shook as I grabbed a cup. Filled it carefully. Concentrated on not spilling a single drop because the last time—
No. Don't think about that.
The espresso machine hissed. The overhead speakers played something soft and forgettable. My pulse thundered loud enough I wondered if he could hear it.
I turned with the cup extended, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
He took it without a word. Our fingers brushed—brief, electric—and I yanked my hand back too fast.
His jaw tightened. Just once. So subtle I almost missed it.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
I nodded, throat too tight to speak.
He didn't move. Didn't drink. Just stood there, studying me with those dark, unreadable eyes that saw too much.
The weight of his attention pressed against my ribs, heavy and inescapable.
I stood frozen between them, the air thick enough to choke on.
Ben shifted his weight beside me—subtle, but I felt it. The easy warmth from moments ago had evaporated, replaced by something sharp and uncomfortable that prickled against my skin.
Rhys didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there holding his coffee cup, jaw tight, shoulders squared in a way that made the space feel smaller than it was.
"Ben." The name came out flat. Not rude, exactly—but cold enough to make my stomach flip.
Ben cleared his throat. "Coach."
The silence stretched. I glanced between them, pulse kicking up for reasons I couldn't name. This didn't feel like a normal exchange. It felt like watching two wolves size each other up, waiting to see who'd back down first.
"Shouldn't you be on break?" Rhys's tone stayed polite, clipped at the edges.
Ben blinked. "I—yeah. In a minute."
"Thought the café needed stocking." Rhys tilted his head toward the back room, barely a gesture. More like a command wrapped in suggestion.
Heat flooded my cheeks. I opened my mouth to say something—what; I had no idea—but Ben was already moving.
"Right. Yeah. I'll, uh…" He grabbed a rag from the counter, avoiding eye contact. "Be right back, Liv."
He disappeared into the storage room before I could respond.
And then it was just the two of us.
The quiet pressed in, heavy and awkward. I twisted my fingers in my apron, searching for something to say that wouldn't sound stupid.
Rhys took a slow sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim. His expression gave nothing away, but the tension in his shoulders hadn't eased.
"Everything okay?" The question slipped out small, tentative.
He lowered the cup. Studied me—not the surface, but deeper. Like he could see past the forced calm I wore, straight through to the exhaustion and fear I'd been fighting all morning.
My breath hitched. Did he know? Could he tell?
His gaze lingered on my face, then dropped to my hands, still twisted in the apron fabric. When he looked up again, something dark flickered in his expression. Not anger. Something worse.
Recognition.
"Be careful who you trust."
The words landed like a blow. Quiet. Controlled. Weighted with meaning I didn't understand.
My stomach twisted hard. "What?"
But he was already turning away, jaw clenched so tight I saw the muscle jump. He set the coffee cup down on the counter—half-full, abandoned—and walked toward the exit without another word.
I stood there staring after him, heart hammering against my ribs.
What just happened?
The storage room door creaked open. Ben emerged, glancing toward the exit where Rhys had disappeared. "He gone?"
I nodded, throat too tight to speak.
"Jeez." Ben exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. "That was weird, right? Not just me?"
"Yeah." My voice came out thin. "Weird."
But it wasn't just weird. It was something else. Something that made my skin prickle and my chest ache and my thoughts spiral in directions I didn't want to follow.
Be careful who you trust.
Why would he say that? What did he mean? Was he talking about Ben? About someone else? About him?
I pressed my palms flat against the counter, forcing myself to breathe. My hands trembled. The cold weight in my chest from this morning rushed back, heavier than before.
Ben moved beside me, concern etched across his features. "You okay?"
"Fine." The lie tasted sour. I grabbed a rag and started wiping down the already-clean counter, needing something—anything—to do with my hands. "Just tired."
He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. Just went back to restocking cups in silence.
And I stood there, replaying Rhys's words on loop, trying to understand what I'd missed.
Trying to understand why his warning felt less like advice and more like a threat.
Trying to understand why the look in his eyes when he studied me had felt like being seen—really seen—for the first time in years.
And why that terrified me almost as much as the dark sedan idling outside my apartment.