Chapter 7: more than coffee 2

He just stood there, the heat of him too close, the air between us too thin.

"You ask a lot of questions, Kaira," he murmured.

My stomach tightened, the words were quiet. But not idle.

Not casual.

They were an observation. A reminder. A warning.

I forced my expression to stay neutral. "Do you have answers?" I asked.

Something flickered behind his eyes,his lips twitched—not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. Just a subtle shift, like he was amused by something I wasn't in on.

"Maybe," he said.

His voice was calm, but there was something beneath it. Something coiled.

He still hadn't moved.

Still hadn't taken a sip of his coffee, nor paid for it. I crossed my arms over my chest, tilting my head slightly. "So mysterious," I muttered, my tone dipping into sarcasm. "You always this cryptic, or do I just bring it out in you?"

His gaze intensified.

For the first time, I saw something flicker across his face. Something close to—interest.

"Maybe," he said again, and this time, the corner of his mouth barely curved.

My pulse jumped.

I hated that it did.

I straightened, exhaling slowly. "You know, normal people just order their coffee, drink it, and leave."

"Am I normal?" he asked, his voice low, the way he said it. The way he looked at me as he did.

I swallowed.

"No," I admitted.

His smirk deepened just slightly. "Good."

A long, heavy pause.

I knew I should turn away. Pick up a rag, start cleaning. Something to break the tension.

But I didn't.

Because there was something about the way he looked at me. Something that made it hard to breathe, hard to think, like he saw more than I wanted him to.

And worse—like he knew it.

Then, finally, he lifted the coffee to his lips and took a slow sip, and as if making some kind of decision, he placed the cup back down on the counter—not taking it with him.

His fingers lingered on the ceramic for a second, then he pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and dropped them on the counter next to his cup of coffee

Then took a step back.

The space between us widened.

But the feeling of him lingered.

"See you around, Kaira," he murmured.

And then—just like that—he was gone.

The bell above the door chimed again, the glass door swung shut behind him. And I stood there, staring at the cup he'd left behind.

A small, empty thing, Still warm from his hands.

My chest felt tight, my thoughts tangled, the morning air suddenly too heavy, I let out a slow breath, but it did nothing to steady me.

Because somehow—I knew, this wasn't over.

I let out a slow breath, staring at the half-empty cup he'd left on the counter, the ceramic still holding the ghost of his warmth, something coiled tight in my chest. A strange mix of unease, curiosity, and something else I didn't want to name. It wasn't attraction. It wasn't, at least, it shouldn't be.

A throat cleared behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"So…"

I turned to see Liv, my coworker, standing a few feet away with a tray of dirty mugs balanced on her hip. Her brows were raised, a knowing smirk curving her lips.

"So?" I repeated, frowning slightly.

Liv set the tray down with a little clatter, wiping her hands on her apron. "So, what the hell was that?"

I blinked, feigning ignorance. "What was what?"

She scoffed. "Oh, come on. Don't play dumb, Kaira. That was, like, the most intense interaction I've ever seen over a cup of coffee."

I rolled my eyes, turning away to start wiping down the counter. "It was just an order, Liv."

She gave me a look. "It was not just an order. He was eye-fucking you the entire time."

Heat rushed to my face. "He was not—"

"He so was." Liv leaned against the counter, grinning now. "Who is he? Do you know him? Oh my God, are you sleeping with him?"

I choked on air. "What? No."

Liv gasped, clapping her hands together. "Oh my God, you want to!"

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "I hate you."

She ignored me, her grin widening. "Holy shit, Kaira, he's hot. Like, ridiculously hot. Like I would sell my soul for a chance to climb that man like a tree hot."

"Liv."

"I mean, the jawline alone could cut glass."

I pressed my fingers against my forehead, willing my face to cool down. "I'm not having this conversation."

Liv cackled. "Oh, but you are. Because I need details. Who is he? Why was he looking at you like he was about to—"

I clamped my hand over her mouth. "Stop. Right now."

She licked my palm.

"Ugh!" I yanked my hand back, wiping it on my apron. "You're disgusting."

Liv grinned, completely unbothered. "You love me."

"Not at this moment, I don't."

She ignored me, hopping onto an empty counter space and swinging her legs. "Come on, tell me. Who is he?"

I hesitated.

Because what was I supposed to say? That his name was Vladimir? That I had met him last night at a party and that something about him felt… off? That despite every logical part of me knowing I should stay away, something about him pulled me in?

Instead, I exhaled slowly. "He's just… someone I met."

Liv narrowed her eyes. "That is the vaguest answer I have ever heard. Which means it's juicy as hell."

"It's not," I lied.

She studied me for a second, then smirked. "You're flustered."

"I am not flustered."

Liv grinned, leaning in slightly. "Kaira, babe, your ears are red."

I cursed under my breath, spinning on my heel to pretend to wipe an already clean counter.

Liv burst out laughing.

I glared at her over my shoulder. "Don't you have tables to clean?"

She waved a hand. "Eh, they can wait. This is far more entertaining."

I rolled my eyes. "You're insufferable."

"And yet, you love me, must be tragic."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Look, it's nothing, okay? He's just… someone I met at a party last night."

Liv's eyes widened. "Ohhh. A party connection. That explains the tension. What happened? Did you two hook up?"

I scoffed. "No. Jesus, why is that always your first assumption?"

"Because I live vicariously through you," she said shamelessly.

I groaned. "You need real hobbies."

She smirked. "And you need to admit that you're intrigued by him."

I hesitated.

Because—was I?

Yes.

But not in the way Liv assumed. Not in the innocent, harmless, wow-he's-hot way.

There was something else about Vladimir. Something deeper, something pulling at me in a way I didn't understand.

And that scared me.

Before I could answer, the back door swung open and Mr Rossi stepped into the kitchen.

"Kaira you're closing tonight right?."

I blinked, shaking off the lingering haze of my conversation with Liv. "Uh yeah."

He nodded. "Lock up when you're done I'm heading out early.

"Got it."

Liv wiggled her eyebrows at me as soon as he disappeared. " ohhhhh closing shift. Time to stare longingly at the door incase your mystery man returns."

I threw a dish washer at her. She dodged it expertly, laughing as she stepped back into the kitchen. "Text me later if he shows up again."

I sighed rubbing at my temples, what the hell have I gotten myself into?

Later that night>>>>>

The bakery was quiet now, the warmth of the ovens had faded, leaving the air slightly cool, tinged with the lingering scent of sugar, butter, and espresso. The last customer had left nearly an hour ago, and now it was just me—alone in the soft hum of the empty space.

I exhaled, wiping down the last table with slow, methodical strokes. The silence felt heavy, pressing against my skin. It should have been comforting—the kind of quiet that came with a long shift finally ending.

But tonight, it felt… different.

I tossed the damp rag into the laundry bin, stretching my arms over my head. I needed to get out of here, I moved behind the counter, grabbing my phone from its usual spot near the register. A single notification blinked on the screen.

Julian: I'm outside. Let's go.

I stared at the message for a second longer than necessary.

Right.

I tugged off my apron, folding it with careless precision before tossing it onto the counter. Then I moved through my usual closing routine—checking the register, switching off the coffee machines, ensuring all the lights except the front ones were dimmed. My hands went through the motions automatically, but my mind felt… disconnected.

Somewhere in the back of my thoughts, Vladimir lingered.

The way he had looked at me. The way he had stood there, like he had all the time in the world, like he was studying something about me that I couldn't quite name.

I swallowed, shaking the thoughts away. It was nothing.