6. Coffee and Boundaries #2
“I really need to get back to my friend.” Nora’s tone left no room for negotiation. “Have a great day.”
The young woman’s smile faltered slightly, but she nodded and retreated to her own table.
Morgan could feel the shift in the cafe’s atmosphere—curious glances, whispered conversations.
Several people had their phones out now, some pretending to check messages while clearly taking photos.
The woman who had approached took her picture with less pretense.
Morgan’s chest tightened. “We should go,” she said quietly.
Nora didn’t argue. She gathered her things quickly, leaving half her elaborate coffee behind, and followed Morgan out of the cafe. They walked back toward the shop in charged silence.
“I’m sorry,” Nora said when they reached the parking lot. “I didn’t think about… In LA, I usually don’t get recognized, there are much bigger celebs out there. But here… and I should have realized that being seen with me might make you uncomfortable.”
Morgan stopped walking. The apology was unexpected, and more perceptive than she’d expected. Most people didn’t notice her discomfort with attention, or if they did, they dismissed it as antisocial behavior rather than recognizing it as genuine distress.
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “People have the right to ask.”
“But you have the right to say no. And to not be photographed without permission.” Nora’s expression was serious, almost angry on Morgan’s behalf. “I should have told her to delete the pictures she took.”
“You told her no,” Morgan said. “That was enough.”
“Was it, though? I saw how uncomfortable you got in there. The way everyone stared…”
Heat rose in Morgan’s cheeks. She’d hoped her reaction had been less obvious, more controlled, yet Nora had not only noticed but cared enough to cut short what was probably a valuable promotional opportunity.
“I don’t like being the center of attention,” she said, which was a massive understatement but felt safer than explaining the full scope of her discomfort with public exposure.
“I can tell. And I’m sorry I put you in that position.” Nora leaned against Morgan’s truck. “Can I ask you something?”
Morgan tensed. Nora had already asked personal questions… and yet Morgan had answered. Something about Nora, her expression and tone and all of her, made her nod.
“Yesterday, when I was watching you work, you seemed… peaceful. Content. Like you were exactly where you belonged.” Nora paused, choosing her words carefully. “I haven’t felt that way about anything in a long time. How do you do it? Find that kind of certainty?”
Morgan was quiet. How did she explain that mechanical systems made sense in ways human systems didn’t? That cars followed logical rules, responded predictably to proper treatment, and didn’t require her to navigate unspoken social expectations she’d never fully understood?
“I understand how engines work,” she said finally. “When something’s wrong, I can diagnose the problem and fix it. The outcome depends on knowledge and skill, not on… other variables.”
“Other variables? Like what?”
Morgan considered how much honesty the question warranted. “Like whether people approve of you.” The words came out more bitter than she’d intended. “Cars don’t care if you’re awkward or blunt or prefer to work alone. The only thing that matters is if you know what you’re doing.”
Nora was quiet for a long moment, and Morgan braced herself for the usual responses—reassurance that she wasn’t really awkward, suggestions for being more social, advice about putting herself out there. Instead, Nora nodded slowly.
“That makes sense. I think I’ve been looking for that kind of certainty my whole life.”
“Your music doesn’t work that way?”
“It should. But somewhere along the way, I started caring more about how people reacted to it than whether it was any good.” Nora shrugged. “Everything became about the audience instead of the art.”
“Is that why you stopped touring?”
Nora’s laugh was sharp, self-deprecating, and her hands followed along as she spoke.
“I didn’t stop. I got stopped. Panic attack on stage in front of two thousand people.
Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t finish, ran off while everyone filmed it.
Then someone leaked backstage footage and it went viral.
” She met Morgan’s eyes directly. “Bad reviews, venues canceling, personal drama spilling over into professional disaster. I’ve been trying to spin it as needing a break, but the truth is I failed. Spectacularly, and very publicly.”
Morgan didn’t know how to respond to that level of personal disclosure from someone she barely knew.
“I should let you get back to work,” Nora said, apparently reading Morgan’s discomfort correctly.
“Thank you for having coffee with me. And for… understanding about the photo thing.” She started to walk toward her Honda, then turned back.
“Morgan? If you ever want company while you work—someone who won’t talk too much or get in the way—I’m around.
I mean, I know I talk a lot, but I’m working on it. ”
The offer hung in the air between them, casual but genuine.
Morgan considered it from multiple angles.
Having someone in her workspace violated her usual preference for solitude.
But yesterday had been... unexpectedly peaceful.
Nora had watched without judgment, asked intelligent questions, and somehow managed to be present without being intrusive.
And she was easy to sit with. Even when the silence wasn’t comfortable. Especially then.
“Maybe,” Morgan said, which surprised them both.
Nora smiled. “Maybe is good. I like maybe.”
She drove away in her perfectly functioning Honda, leaving Morgan standing in the parking lot with hours of work ahead of her and absolutely no idea what had just happened.