CHAPTER TWO~THE FIRST PULL
1671 Words
VIVIAN
I bid Anna goodbye as I shift from ‘student mode’ into ‘barista mode.’ The café hums with life, cups clinking, soft chatter and chairs squeaking across the wooden floor. The air carries the familiar warmth of freshly brewed coffee with the sweet aroma of sugar dusted pastries. I sling my bag to the side, tie my apron and let the familiar rhythm of the café take over.
“Welcome…” I greet customers as they stream in, placing orders for muffins, scones, iced lattes, anything to survive the afternoon slump.
The rush hour hits hard. A blur of hands, orders, receipts, and steaming milk. By the time it slows, my knees feel like they want to retire from my body entirely.
“Huff, finally,” I breathe out, leaning against the counter. I’m seconds away from collapsing into a chair when the bell above the door chimes again, sharp, clear and my heart skips a beat.
Of course!
“Welcome, what would you…”
The words die on my tongue.
Something warm and sharp hits my senses first…woody cologne, rich, sharp, like an expensive hotel lobby, a subtle warmth that makes my chest tighten.
Then I see him.
All black. Shirt unbuttoned enough to hint at trouble, sleeves rolled to reveal ink curled along his right forearm, veins and muscle standing out like art. Hands in his pockets. Broad shoulders. Dark hair slicked back into a taper fade that should be illegal. And his forest green eyes? mysterious, unreadable, pinning me where I stand.
Something tells me he doesn’t belong in this little café.
Everyone else trudges in half-asleep, scrolling through phones and ordering coffee just to survive.
But HIM?
He looks like he walks through life expecting the world to move out of his way.
My brain short circuits.
Whoever sculpted this man deserves a raise.
I think it or maybe I whisper it, because he chuckles.
Heat rushes up my neck, all the way to my ears. I snap back to reality, begging silently for the floor to swallow me.
“Ahem… What would you like to order?” My voice is a mess, barely held together.
“A shot of espresso.”
Smooth voice. Dangerously smooth.
He hands me his card, and I try not to notice how his fingers brush mine. My hand feels embarrassingly small against his. I swipe the card quickly, hiding the fact that my fingers tremble.
“One espresso,” I say, slipping into barista mode like armor.
He doesn’t respond.
He just watches.
Those eyes follow me as I scoop the ground, tamp them and lock the portafilter in place. Even the hiss of the machine sounds louder under his stare, like I’m on stage performing instead of making a tiny cup of coffee.
Then he breaks the silence.
“Do you always stare at your customers like that?”
My hand jerks and I almost spill the shot.
“I wasn’t staring,” I snap, cheeks on fire.
A corner of his mouth lifts.
“If you say so.”
I focus on the espresso like it’s a life or death operation. When I finally set the tiny cup in front of him, I exhale a shaky breath.
He doesn’t take it.
Instead, he leans closer, close enough for me to smell him again. I swear my soul exits my body.
“What is your name?” he asks.
I consider lying.
Something tells me names matter to a man like him.
But my mouth betrays me.
“Vivian.”
He repeats it, slow, tasting the syllables.
“Vivian.”
My stomach twists. Nobody has ever made my name sound like a secret.
“And you are?” I manage.
He smirks.
“Dominic.”
Just that. No last name. No context.
He drinks the espresso in one smooth motion and sets the cup down with precision. His eyes sweep over me one last time, memorizing things he shouldn’t.
Then he turns and leaves.
The bell chimes behind him.
And the café feels… different.
He leaves behind the scent of cologne and a dozen questions I’m too confused to articulate.
My legs give up and I collapse against the counter, clutching my chest like somehow that will slow my racing heart.
What the heck just happened?
DOMINIC
I didn’t come here for coffee.
I came for intel.
Mauro’s men had been seen around this area, one of them rumored to be using this café as a hideout or meeting point. A stupid choice, but criminals are creatures of habit.
I only meant to walk in, blend in, confirm the face, and walk out.
Instead…
I saw her.
I noticed her before the door even closed behind me. Small hands, flushed cheeks, brown eyes framed with tired lashes, hair pulled back in a way that made her neck look delicate.
Not my type of place.
Not my type of woman.
Not my type of life.
Yet I couldn’t look away.
She said “Welcome…” like she actually meant it. Like no one had ever walked into this café and made her forget her script until me.
Cute.
I step toward the counter, and her eyes widen. She whispers something Maybe a compliment or a prayer, or even a curse, I’m not sure. But I hear it.
I shouldn’t enjoy it.
But I do.
She tries to hide the tremor in her hand when she swipes my card. Tries to hide the way my presence rattles her.
But she fails.
And I like the way she says my name, like it confuses her as much as it grounds her.
This girl, Vivian, doesn’t belong in my world.
And I sure as hell don’t belong in hers.
Yet I walk out with her name replaying in my mind, instead of the intel I came for.
I’ll have to return.
Not for the coffee.
VIVIAN
I barely have time to gather my thoughts before the staff room door swings open.
“Vee! I swear if I stay in that tiny room any longer—”
Leah steps out, adjusting her hairnet. She pauses when she sees my face.
Her eyebrows rise.
“Uh… babe? Why do you look like you just had a religious experience?”
“I…uh …it’s nothing.”
Leah squints.
“No. No. Absolutely not. Your cheeks are literally glowing. Spill.”
I shake my head, pressing a hand to my chest again, trying to steady my heartbeat.
She gasps.
“Oh my God. You’re holding your chest?! What happened? Did someone yell at you? Did you burn yourself? Did someone hot…?
“YES,” I blurt.
Leah freezes.
“Hot as in… physically hot or attractive?”
I inhale sharply. Wrong move. It reminds me of his cologne.
She screams.
Not a loud one, but that excited squeaky one that only Leah can pull off without getting fired.
“WHO WAS IT?!”
“It’s… I don’t know. A guy.”
“A guy?! Vivian Rose Hart, I go in for ONE minute and you find a man out of thin air?! Describe him!”
I open my mouth, but all that comes out is…
“Tall.”
Leah deadpans.
“Girl, so are electricity poles. Details.”
“Intense. Tattooed. Very… very…”
I make vague gestures that mean nothing.
Her jaw drops.
“You’re flustered. You’ve never been flustered. Oh this is REAL.”
“It’s not, he just came in for espresso.”
“Espresso? And left you looking like you got hit by Cupid’s truck.” She wiggles her brows. “Do we like him?”
I groan. “Leah, stop.”
She cackles and bumps my shoulder.
“You’re blushing. It’s over for you, babe.”
If only she knew how over.
But she didn’t see him.
She doesn’t know his presence could rearrange the atoms in a room.
The rest of my shift drags in a weird haze.
I attend to an elderly couple arguing over blueberry muffins.
A mother whose toddler keeps pressing his face against the glass display.
A guy who keeps asking if we have “sugar-free organic water,” which is… water.
And two siblings trying to decide what drinks would taste good and cost them less money.
But every few minutes, my mind drifts back to him.
Dominic.
His voice.
His eyes.
His question.
What’s your name?
No one has ever said my name the way he did.
Like he was claiming it.
Claiming me.
“Earth to Vivian,” Leah says, snapping her fingers in front of my face.
“Sorry, sorry. What?”
“You’ve been wiping the same spot on the counter for the past five minutes.”
I look down.
Yep. The counter is practically polished to a mirror.
I exhale.
“Just tired.”
“Mhm.” Leah rolls her eyes. “Sure.”
The sun dips behind the buildings by the time the last customer leaves. I lock the door, pull the blinds halfway, and grab the mop. Leah hums off key as she restocks napkins.
My body is tired, but my mind is running laps.
As I wipe down a table, a wave of that cologne, Dominic’s cologne seems to linger in my memory.
I stop and press a hand over my heart again.
“Girl,” Leah laughs from behind the counter, “whatever you’re thinking about better be paying rent.”
I throw a napkin at her.
She dodges it with a grin.
We finish cleaning slowly, chatting about classes and customers and random nonsense. When we’re done, we clock out and turn off the lights. The café goes quiet, shadows stretching across the tiles.
But as I step outside, locking the door behind me, I swear I still feel his eyes on me.
Watching.
Studying.
Waiting.
I shake it off and head towards the bookstore.
But deep down, I know one thing for sure.
This won’t be the last time I see him.
Not even close.
- Writer
