Not Every Smile is Safe
1159 Words
Alyssa
Flashback
The heat pressed against the city like a second skin, heavy and unmoving.
Alyssa had slipped into the small bookstore on Whitmore and Fifth, the cool, dusty air a quiet relief from the chaos outside.
She wandered through the narrow aisles, letting the worn spines of old books brush against her fingertips, trying to lose herself.
A voice broke the stillness.
"Looking for anything special?"
She turned.
A charming man stood a few feet away, a novel tucked loosely under one arm.
Tall, very light blonde hair, deep blue eyes and well-kept.
His smile came easily, softening sharp features and brightening his light brown eyes.
Trent.
There was no edge to his voice, no pressure in his posture.
Only a casual interest, as if a conversation was just a way to pass time, not a goal.
"I’m terrible at picking something new," he said, an easy laugh in his words. "Any recommendations?"
Alyssa offered a faint smile.
Politeness, nothing more.
She named a few titles, her voice low in the quiet shop.
He listened without interrupting, his head tilting slightly in a gesture that felt attentive, not rehearsed.
When she finished, he smiled wide.
"You’ve got great taste," he said. "You’d probably save me from wasting another afternoon on something awful."
A beat of silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable.
"Can I buy you a coffee?" he asked. "As a thank-you?"
His tone stayed light. No expectation. No insistence.
Only the offer, hanging there like an open door.
Alyssa hesitated.
But there was nothing about him that felt wrong.
No alarms. No unease.
She said yes.
End Flashback
The memory slipped away, the quiet of the café easing back into focus.
Soft voices drifted through the air, cups clinked against saucers, rain tapped gently against the window beside her.
Alyssa kept her eyes on her coffee, letting its warmth anchor her.
The memory still echoed faintly—reminding her that not every smile was safe, not every kind voice came without a price.
She pushed the thought aside.
Her past had shaped her.
Strengthened her.
That truth settled inside her, steady and solid, enough to push her forward.
She rose slowly from the chair, the weight of the moment still clinging to her, and stepped out into the rain.
The street stretched ahead, gray and wet under the heavy sky.
As she walked to work she could not help but feel something bad coming her way and she had to be ready.
The restaurant appeared ahead, a small, worn building tucked between the florist and the antique shop.
The faded green awning sagged slightly, the paint above the door peeling at the edges.
She paused near the entrance, the soft clatter of dishes and the low hum of voices leaking through the thin walls.
The smell of coffee and fried food lingered in the damp air.
For a moment, she let herself stand there, the rain misting over her skin, the weight of the past night pressing down.
Inside waited work and routine which was something normal for her to cling to.
Alyssa wiped her hands against her shorts and pushed open the door.
The warmth of the restaurant swallowed her whole.
The lunch crowd had thinned to a few late stragglers.
Alyssa moved through the dining room with practiced ease, coffee pot in hand, apron smudged, hair tied up loosely.
At table seven, a man around her age leaned back in his seat, empty plate pushed forward, coffee half-full.
Clean-cut, friendly, well-dressed in a button-up rolled at the sleeves. The kind of smile that came easy and often.
"You know," he said as she approached, "this is the best coffee I’ve had all week. I might come back just for the refills."
She smiled politely, pouring him a fresh cup.
"Flattery won’t get you free pie."
"It might get me something better," he said, tone light. "Your name, maybe?"
Alyssa let out a quiet laugh, subtle but genuine.
"You already know it. It’s written right here." She tapped the name tag on her apron.
"Right," he grinned. "Alyssa. Beautiful name. Fits the smile."
It was harmless.
Nice even.
She smiled again, a little wider, letting the moment stretch.
But something flickered in the back of her mind.
Not danger and not fear, it just felt wrong, like she should not be flirting back.
It wasn’t this guy’s fault.
He was charming, polite, and clearly interested.
But the tug in her chest—the one she’d been trying to ignore since yesterday—pulled again.
That strange, invisible thread.
That soft burn just beneath her skin.
She stepped back, smoothing her apron.
"I’ll let you enjoy your coffee," she said, voice softening.
He smiled, still warm.
"Maybe next time I’ll earn that pie."
Alyssa nodded and turned away, her own smile fading as she walked.
She moved back behind the counter, wiping her hands on a towel, eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
The man was nice, flirty and charming.
Everything she previously would have gone for.
But it didn't feel right.
Her thoughts drifted, uninvited, to dark eyes across a café table.
To the quiet weight in Cole’s voice.
To the way her name had sounded coming from him.
Thinking about it caused feelings in her she had never felt before.
Her skin tingled as a warmth pooled low in her.
She frowned, pushing the thought away.
It was just dinner.
Nothing more.
By the time Alyssa's shift ended, and she stepped into her apartment, the sky had turned to ash and the streets became a bit more relaxed.
She dropped her keys on the counter, kicked off her shoes, and moved through the space on autopilot.
She did not turn on the TV or music, she just needed quiet.
She changed into an old T-shirt, tied her hair up, and crawled under the covers without bothering to turn on a lamp.
Sleep didn’t come easily.
Her body was tired, but her mind stayed sharp, tugging at old corners she thought were sealed.
She stared at the ceiling.
Then the dark shifted, just slightly—
And memory crept in.
Flashback
The first time Trent brought her to his apartment, he cooked dinner.
He wasn’t like most men who order take out or try to get a pizza, he actually cooked!
The lights were low. Music was soft.
A bottle of red wine was already open.
"I don’t usually do this," he’d said with a sheepish grin, holding up a wooden spoon like a weapon.
"But for you? I thought I’d try."
Alyssa laughed, surprised by how genuine it all felt.
He was sweet that night.
Charming. Attentive.
The kind of man who pulled out chairs and refilled her glass without being asked.
She remembered the way he’d looked at her over the rim of his wine glass—like she was something rare.
And she’d believed it.
Back then, she still believed a lot of things.
- Writer
