The Date above Their Heads

Second Contact

I almost didn’t notice him at first.

Almost.

Because I’ve already built the habit of ignoring him.

Or trying to.

But habits break when they’re tested too often.

I’m standing outside a small shop, waiting for nothing in particular—just time, just space, just a moment where I don’t have to think about anything heavier than breathing.

That’s when I hear his voice.

“Do you always avoid people on purpose, or is it just me?”

I freeze.

Not immediately turning.

That’s important.

Control first.

Reaction later.

Slowly, I glance to the side.

And there he is.

Close enough now that ignoring him isn’t possible anymore.

Nathaniel.

Same calm expression as before. Same steady posture. Like he belongs in conversations instead of watching them from a distance.

I should walk away.

That’s my first instinct.

That’s always my first instinct.

But I don’t.

Because he’s already stepped into my space.

Not aggressively.

Not forcefully.

Just… confidently.

Like he expects me to answer.

I exhale softly through my nose.

“…No,” I say.

Short.

Clean.

Controlled.

He tilts his head slightly, like he’s not convinced.

“That sounded like a lie.”

I don’t respond.

That’s safer.

Silence is always safer.

He doesn’t leave, though.

That’s the problem.

Most people would’ve left by now.

Most people would’ve taken the hint.

But he just stays there, watching me like I’m something he’s trying to figure out instead of avoid.

It makes my skin feel slightly too aware of itself.

“I saw you the other day,” he adds casually.

I tense slightly.

Of course he did.

I keep my gaze just below his face.

Not eye contact.

Never eye contact.

“What do you want?” I ask quietly.

There’s a pause.

Not uncomfortable.

Just thoughtful.

Then he says, “I’m not sure yet.”

That should make me leave.

That should be enough.

But it isn’t.

Because instead of pushing him away harder—,

I feel something worse.

Curiosity.

And that is not safe.

Not for me.

Not for anyone around me.

I take a small step back.

“I don’t do conversations,” I say.

“That’s obvious,” he replies lightly.

That… almost pulls a reaction out of me.

Almost.

But I suppress it.

He studies me for a moment longer, then gives a small shrug.

“Alright,” he says. “Then I’ll just keep seeing you around.”

My chest tightens slightly.

That’s not a suggestion.

That’s a decision.

And I don’t like it.

I turn away before he can say anything else.

Because if I stay longer,

I might look at him too closely.

And I can’t afford that.

Not anymore.