Coffee
810 Words
Noelle's PoV:
Then he turned and walked away.
My skin prickled. it was Professor Hale
He knew who I was.
The question was: What was he going to do about it?
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I opened the photo again. Zoomed in on the file label.
Mercer vs. Whitmore — Archival.
Below it, in smaller print: Location: Off-site storage, Chicago. Box 14-C.
They had a box. A physical box. With evidence.
And it was sitting in Chicago, three hundred miles away, completely out of my reach.
Unless…
Unless I could get Cole to take me there.
Unless I could make him trust me enough to let me in.
I closed the photo and stared at the ceiling.
I wasn't just using Cole Whitmore anymore.
I was going to need him.
And that made everything more dangerous.
---
Eli Navarro was the only person who could make me forget I was lying. That was why I couldn't see him too often.
We met at Mama Lena's again, three days later.
Eli was already there, same corner table, same black coffee. But something was different. He was wearing a button-down shirt instead of his usual hoodie. His hair was combed.
"You look nice," I said, sitting down.
He shrugged. "Got a presentation in my political science seminar."
"Liar."
Eli grinned. "Okay, fine. I wanted to look nice. For me. Is that a crime?"
I laughed. It felt good. Easy. Like being seventeen again, before the plan consumed everything.
We talked for an hour. About classes, about Maya's never-ending string lights, about the terrible pizza in the dining hall. Eli made me laugh three times. Genuine laughs. The kind that came from my chest without permission.
For sixty whole minutes, I wasn't Noelle Mercer, secret avenger.
I was just a girl having coffee with her best friend.
Then Eli's face shifted.
"Noelle," he said quietly. "What happened? You seem different."
I froze. "Different how?"
"Lighter. But also… more scared." He leaned forward. "Did something happen with Cole?"
I opened my mouth to say no. To lie.
But Eli knew me too well.
"I found something," I admitted. "A file. In his equipment bag. Whitmore Industries has a box of documents about my father. Off-site storage in Chicago."
Eli's jaw tightened. "And you want to get to it."
"Yes."
"How?"
I hesitated. "Cole might be able to get me in."
Eli stared at me. His expression was unreadable. Then he said something I didn't expect:
"I'll help you."
"What?"
"I said I'll help you." He reached across the table and took my hand. "Not because I think this is a good idea. Because I think you're going to do it whether I help or not. And if you're going to burn your life down, I'd rather be there to pull you out of the fire."
My throat tightened. "Eli…"
"Don't." His voice cracked, just a little. "Don't thank me. Don't apologize. Just promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"When this is over ,when you have what you came for — you look at yourself in the mirror, and you make sure you're still someone you recognize."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Eli squeezed my hand and let go.
The warmth of his fingers lingered on my skin.
---
We walked out of the coffee shop together. The sun was setting, painting the campus in shades of orange and gold.
Eli stopped at the crosswalk. "One more thing."
"What?"
"Cole asked Marcus about you again. Marcus told me." Eli's eyes met mine. "He's falling for you, Noelle. And I don't think it's part of the plan anymore."
I didn't answer.
Because I knew.
I'd known since the night he texted me at 1 a.m.
Cole Whitmore was falling for me.
And the worst part?
I was falling too.
I just couldn't tell Eli that.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
---
We stood there for a moment longer, the noise of passing cars filling the silence between us.
Eli glanced at me one last time. “Text me when you get back, okay?”
“I will.”
He nodded, then turned and walked away.
I watched him go until he disappeared into the crowd.
I exhaled and turned in the opposite direction.
Back toward campus.
Halfway down the path, a strange feeling crept up my spine.
Like I’d missed something.
I slowed.
Then stopped.
The campus was still busy—students talking, laughing, moving past me like everything was normal.
But something wasn’t.
I felt it.
That quiet, unmistakable shift.
Like the air had changed.
Slowly, I turned my head.
Scanning.
Nothing. Just people.
Just movement. Just noise.
I exhaled, shaking it off, and started walking again—
until I caught it.
Across the street.
Perfectly still. Someone was standing there , stiff looking at me .
Not the crowd.
Not the street.
Me.
- Writer
