Chapter 2
TWO
I did something meaningful for once
SOPHIE
I feel the safest when I’m working. Usually.
The cafe stays busy enough that I’m never really alone, and the noise helps drown out everything else.
Same with the campus bookstore—constant motion, people coming and going, though it’s been slower these days.
As long as I’m surrounded by others, I know no one can get to me. Not them. Not again.
I wish my scholarship covered housing so I could live in one of the Westcliffe dorms, where there’s security and community and walls that feel less thin.
But it doesn’t. And a tiny off-campus apartment was all I could afford.
Putting myself through school here isn’t easy.
Life is expensive, and juggling two jobs is exhausting.
But it’ll be worth it. If I can just keep pushing through, I’ll get into Westcliffe Law.
It’s one of the best in the country—and the key to making sure no one like them ever has power over me again.
At exactly three thirty—thirty minutes before my shift ends—Micah walks in.
I wasn’t sure he’d actually come. Part of me assumed he’d forget.
But the moment I see him, something in me eases.
My shoulders drop. My chest loosens. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been until that very second—how the anxiety had been slowly building as the end of my shift crept closer.
We make eye contact, and he gives me a smile and a small nod—almost identical to the one he gave me in class this morning.
Apparently my brain is happy to see him, because I respond with one of the most awkward waves of all time.
He’s wearing that green Westcliffe sweatshirt again.
Maybe it’s to make the whole boyfriend thing seem more believable in case the creep from earlier shows up.
Micah said he lives in the building next to the cafe.
Someone like him would never willingly hang out with me—a scholarship student struggling to make ends meet.
I see the place every time I come in for a shift.
The Haven at Vale. All glass and elegance, and floor-to-ceiling windows.
It’s a luxury apartment complex that certainly belongs in a world that’s different than mine.
I make a quick iced hazelnut latte because I don’t know what he likes, but he shouldn’t have to stand in line and pay again when he’s here because of me.
“You actually came,” I say, my voice quieter than I expect, as I approach him with the drink.
“Thanks.” He takes the drink with an easy smile. “And of course I did.”
I glance down, suddenly hyper-aware of my apron and coffee-stained shoes, compared to his perfectly ironed slacks and spotless white sneakers.
“I wasn’t sure you would,” I admit, trying to sound casual.
“And risk that sleazebag coming back to harass you?” he says, eyebrows furrowed like it wasn’t even up for debate. “Not a chance.”
After my shift ends, I untie my apron and glance toward the entrance. Micah is already waiting by the door, sipping what’s left of his latte. When I walk over, he straightens a little.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says easily.
“I don’t have a car.”
He blinks. “Then how do you get back and forth?”
“There’s a bus. Technically.” I adjust the strap on my bag. “But it’s a hit-or-miss. Half the time it doesn’t come. I usually just walk.”
“What? That’s got to be, what—thirty minutes?”
“Twenty-five if I walk fast,” I correct him. Then I quickly add, “I like the walk. It gives me time to wind down.” That’s a lie. I walk because it’s free.
Micah studies me for a beat. His jaw tightens like he’s in thought. Then he nods once. “Come on.”
He heads out the cafe door without another word, and something about the quiet certainty of it makes me follow. We walk right next door and stop at the entrance of The Haven at Vale.
I’ve passed this place a hundred times but never imagined I’d see the inside.
The moment the glass doors slide open, I feel like I’ve stepped into a different world.
Everything smells faintly of citrus and fresh eucalyptus.
The floors shine like water. The lighting is warm and soft—no flickering fluorescents or peeling corners like the buildings I’m used to living in.
We head toward the elevators, and I finally find my voice. “Uh, where are we going?”
“Heading back up, Mister—” the doorman starts, but Micah cuts him off.
“Looks like I’m gonna need the car,” he says, pressing the elevator button.
I freeze. “Micah?”
He glances at me, casual but firm. “We’re going to the garage. I’ll drive you.”
The elevator dings, and before I can object again, his hand rests gently at the small of my back, guiding me inside. It’s barely a touch, but I feel it everywhere. There’s an unfamiliar flutter in my stomach.
“I can walk,” I say quickly. “I really do enjoy it.” Another lie.
“Sophie,” he says, calm and clear. “Three reasons that’s not happening.
First, what if that fucker from earlier follows you?
Second, you look like you haven’t slept in days and you’ve been on your feet for—what, six hours?
You look exhausted. And third, it’s eighty degrees outside and you’re wearing a sweatshirt.
Walking for thirty minutes in that is hell. ”
“So no,” he says, quieter now. “You’re not walking.”
I stare at the elevator floor, not sure if I should feel grateful or just embarrassed.
It’s hot outside, sure, but the only reason I’m wearing this sweatshirt is that all my long-sleeve tees were in the hamper this morning.
I didn’t get to do laundry over the weekend.
And I would never go outside wearing just a short sleeve top.
“It’s cold in the cafe. And the lecture hall. And you’re wearing the exact same thing,” I mumble, still not looking at him.
“Yeah, but I’m not the one trying to walk home in it.”
There’s no teasing in his voice—just quiet concern. And for once, it seems that someone is looking out for me. I don’t know if I should run from it or just be thankful and accept it.
The elevator opens into a parking garage—quiet and spotless.
My sneakers squeak against the sleek floor, and I glance around, trying not to stare.
Every car here looks brand new, like it’s been detailed that morning and costs more than my entire college tuition.
I don’t know much about cars, but I recognize a few brands: Mercedes, Porsche, Audi.
Everything gleams. No rust, no dents, no tired paint jobs. Just shine and silence.
Micah clicks his key fob, and a sleek black BMW SUV flashes its tail lights from a few rows down.
He opens the passenger door for me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I hesitate for half a second, but then I climb in, sinking into soft leather seats that feel like they were designed to make people like me feel out of place.
It smells like him in here too—fresh linen and cedar, warm and clean.
How did I end up in this situation? I stepped inside The Haven, and now I’m inside a BMW. I must be hallucinating.
I try to act normal. “I never thought I’d meet someone who actually lives at The Haven. That must be nice.”
“Yeah,” he says as he settles into the driver’s seat. “It’s decent.”
He pulls out of the space and glances at me. “Where do you live? On campus? Wait—I’m taking you back to campus, right?”
“Oh, uh—no. I live off campus. But yeah, I was going to the student center on campus.”
“Do you have class?”
“No. I’m applying to be a student tutor. My interview’s in—” I check my phone, “about thirty minutes.”
“You’re gonna work another job?”
I laugh, but it comes out a little awkward. “Yeah. It’s not too bad. It’s less physical than the cafe, and the pay’s decent. Just a few hours a week.” I try not to sound embarrassed, but my voice dips anyway. He’s driving a car I’d be scared to even touch, and I’m explaining why I need another job.
But Micah just nods, like it makes perfect sense.
Trying to shift the topic, I ask, “So…what are you studying? Why are you taking Intro to Comm?”
“It knocks out a prerequisite I need. And I'm majoring in Econ. What about you?”
“Political science.”
He tilts his head slightly. “You want to go to law school?”
I nod. “Yeah. I want to be knowledgeable. Be able to protect myself.” I pause, realizing how that sounds. “I mean—protect people. Like, people who might need protecting. From the law. Or…with it. I don’t know if that makes sense.”
I must sound like an idiot.
“I’m sure you’ll make a great…protector,” Micah says with a low chuckle. It’s quiet but not mocking. Somehow, it puts me at ease. A little.
“Guess it fits,” he adds. “You’ve probably rescued a hundred half-asleep students with coffee already. How long have you worked at Boston Brews?”
“Since freshman year, so last fall,” I say. “They even offered me an assistant manager position last week, but I turned it down. Too many hours, too much responsibility.”
“Wow. And you never noticed me? I’m a regular customer there.”
I give a small shrug. “It gets busy. A lot of faces come through.”
“Yeah, but how many devastatingly handsome faces?”
I bite back a smile. “Plenty. But devastatingly handsome and modest? Zero.”
He laughs, low and easy.
I glance back at the window, my cheeks warm. Smooth, Sophie. Real smooth.
MICAH
We pull up to the student center, and Sophie unclips her seatbelt with that same quiet carefulness she’s had all day.
“Thank you so much for the ride, Micah. I really appreciate it,” she says, her voice soft but genuine. “I owe you one. I’ll see you in class Wednesday.”
She flashes a small smile before stepping out and closing the door gently behind her. I watch her walk up the steps and disappear through the glass doors.