Familiar Strangers

Esmeray

I sit at my favorite spot in Elle and Derek's Café, beside the window at the back, far away from the door, staring outside. Today is beautiful, and everyone around me seems to be in a good mood. Yet I feel like shit. Even the smell of freshly brewed coffee, usually comforting, does nothing to lift my spirits.

"Earth to Esmeray," a familiar voice, across the table, pulls me out of my thoughts.

I blink and turn to Evelyn—Evie—my best friend and soulmate. Her wild red hair packed in the usual ponytail, a pen stuck in it, and her brown small Asian eyes already analyzing me. She takes a sip from her almost finished latte.

"Sorry spaced out for a moment," I mutter, stirring the foam in my cappuccino.

She frowns slightly, "Yeah seems like…" she trails off, taking her pen out her hair and scribbling something on her ever-present jotter.

I can't help but smile. Evie's an author, or—at least an aspiring to be one. She's working on her debut novel so she carries that jotter everywhere like it's her lifeline. Writing is one of the things she works so hard for, maybe because she's still trying to prove to her parents that choosing to study creative writing in college, instead of medicine like they wanted, wasn't such a huge mistake. Both sides of her family are filled with doctors—fifth generation on her mothers' side, fourth on her fathers—so her decision wasn't exactly embraced. But she's relentless and I love that for her.

She looks up at me and grins sheepishly, "Sorry!, had to get that idea down before it flew away, you know."

"Only you would come up with an idea mid-sentence." I tease lightly.

She shrugs grinning. "What can I say? Geniuses don't take breaks." Her expression softens as she leans forward, placing a hand on the table. "So, what's going on? And don't even think of saying nothing. You've got that look."

I raise an eyebrow. "What look?"

"The 'Esmeray-is-spiraling-again-but-is-too-stubborn-to-say-anything' look," She cocks her head to the side, studying me. "So, spill. What's going on inside that beautiful head of yours?"

I chuckle a little shaking my head. "It's nothing, really, just got a lot on my mind."

Evie makes a face, clearly unimpressed by my answer, "And does that 'a lot on your mind' go by the name Noah."

"No," I snap defensively, too quickly. Despite the fact that Evie and I met in sophomore college, she knows everything about Noah and I, so she definitely knows how much his presence is bothering me.

"Evie—" I begin but she waves me off.

"Look, I'm not saying you have to talk about him. But Esme, the last time you were this quiet was when you got a ninety-six in Engineering 101 and pulled that stupid all-nighter for an exam that was in six months."

I let out a chuckle softly, feeling a bit lighter, "Okay but you can't blame me, Engineering 101 was my favorite course."

She snorts. "That's the exact reason I think you're insane."

We both burst into small laughs. But when the laughter fades, I catch her looking at me with that familiar look of concern.

"What?" I ask my smile slipping.

"He still matters to you," she says gently. It's not a question, it's a fact. I can't bring myself to even argue with her because deep down…I know he does.

"But Esme here's the thing" she continues "You are not the same girl from eight years ago. You are a badass fucking CEO. You've been in dozens of interviews, your apps have won countless of awards, and you have beaten his company three times in a row. Don't even let me get on the fact that you're a fucking billionaire, not to mention the youngest in the whole damn country. Esme, you're everything people dream of being."

I smile warmly at her. Sometimes Evie and I sometimes seem like polar opposites and we've had our fights but she's the one person who never fails to remind me of my worth whenever I forget it, and I would never choose anyone else.

I reach across the table and give her hand a small squeeze, "Thanks"

The walk home is peaceful, the evening air blowing lightly against my skin. Evie left early for her parttime job so I was alone. Not that I mind. I like being alone.

As I near the street lined with small shops and bars, I glance at one of the bars—the dim lights and loud music spilling out from open windows into the street. I've never understood the appeal of partying and getting drunk—the idea of losing control, of numbing myself, has always terrified me. I quicken my steps, eager to pass by.

But just as I'm about to pass the bars entrance the door swings open with a loud thud, nearly hitting me.

I shriek stumbling back as my heart leaps into my throat. The door barely misses me by an inch.

The door pauses mid swing then closes with a soft click. Someone rushes out towards me, and before I can react a man is standing in front of me, his arms stretched out as if trying to steady me.

"I'm so sorry, are you alright?" His voice is deep, apologetic and unsettling familiar.

I look up, irritation and adrenaline mixing in my chest, ready to give whoever this is a piece of my mind. But the words catch in my throat when I see him.

"Noah…" his name slips before I realize

"Ray" he takes a step closer, his eyes scanning me from head to toe, "Are you hurt? Shit, I had a horrible day and wasn't paying attention. I should have been more careful." He runs a hand through his messy hair, frustration and worry written all over his face.

I take a step back, needing space, needing air, "I'm fine." My voice comes out sharper than I intended.

He stops, his concern morphing into something sad, almost regretful. His shoulders sag as he takes a step back, matching the distance I've created between us. "Thank God." He murmurs his eyes never leaving mine.

For a moment we just stand there, eyes locked together—one cold and one…regretful?

I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I should get going," I mutter, attempting to walk past him. But before I can, his hand wraps around my wrist, gently stopping me in my tracks. His grip is soft but firm, and the slow deliberate circles his thumb traces on my skin sends a shiver down my spine.

"Ray…" he calls out, his voice barely above a whisper, almost pleading.

I feel my resolve slipping. The walls I've carefully built begin to crack. That tone. I could never resist it. I block out the flood of memories threatening to drown me and I force myself to turn, keeping my expression neutral, gaze cold.

His eyes search mine, desperation flickering behind them, but I keep my expression locked in place. I won't let him in. I can't afford to let him in.

"Ray please…" he falters, like he's unsure of what to say next. The pleading in his eyes, the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing right in his world—it's too much.

"Don't," I begin, voice steady but I feel the tremor threating to rise within me. "Whatever you're about to say…don't."

He takes a step closer his grip unwavering, "I just want to talk."

A bitter laugh escapes my me. "Talk? I don't want to do that…not again."

His fingers tighten slightly around my wrist but not tight enough to hurt me as he steps even closer. "Please…just let me in."

Let him in? My chest tightens with a mixture of emotions and I yank my hand away from his grasp.

"Let you in?" I echo, scoffing as my voice hardens, a sharp edge to it, "You must still take me as an idiot, right?"

"Wh…what?" His face tightens in confusion, and he reaches out again instinctively but I pull back, refusing to let him touch me.

"Well, I glad to disappoint you," I continue, eyes narrowing at him, "but I'm not that girl anymore. And you—" I pause, shaking my head as anger flares up, "—you can't just go and come as you please."

He shakes his head, starting to reach out again but stops himself, "Ray please, I…that's not…that's not what I'm doing—"

He sounds desperate. I cut him off waving my hand dismissively.

"I should really get going." I say, more firmly this time.

Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and walk away, each step feeling heavier than the last. But I don't look back, I can't.