2. CHAPTER TWO
904 Words
Irene's breath caught in her throat as she turned slowly utterly surprised.
He was already looking at her.
Not casually. Not briefly... Intently as if he was flirting with her by just looking at her.
Like he'd been waiting for this exact moment.
"How do you know my name?" she asked.
The question came out sharper than she intended.
His gaze was not distracted.
The corner of his lips lifted; just slightly.
"It's on your tag" he said.
Irene blinked.
Her hand instantly moved to her chest, her fingers brushing over the small name tag pinned to her uniform.
"Yeah, Right" she said.
Heat rushed to her face, a mix of embarrassment and something she couldn't quite place.
"I-- yeah… of course," she muttered, quickly looking away trying to avoid eye contact.
But the strange feeling didn't leave.
If anything… it deepened.
"You're new here?" he asked.
Irene said "No."
"Hmm I see" That was all he said.
Just that one sound.
But it felt like he didn't believe her.
"Do you need anything else?" she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.
"No" he replied.
*A pause*
Then-
"At least not yet" he added.
Her stomach tightened.
Irene gave a small nod and turned away again, this time not stopping.
She could feel his eyes on her the entire walk back to the counter.
"What's wrong with you today?" her manager muttered as she passed by him.
"Nothing," Irene replied quickly.
But that wasn't true.
Something was wrong.
She just didn't know what was.
The rest of her shift passed in a blur.
Orders. Voices. Movement.
But every now and then, she felt it again as if it was on constant replay...
That gaze.
And every time she looked up, he was already looking at her.
By the time her shift ended, the rain had slowed to a light drizzle.
Irene untied her apron, her body aching from the stress as she stepped out into the cold evening air.
She didn't look back at the café.
She didn't want to. She just wanted to go home.
Somehow, she knew he was still inside...
That night, sleep didn't come easily.
Irene lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over again as if she wanted it to happen again.
The way he spoke.
The way he looked at her.
The way he said her name.
It didn't make sense.
He was just a customer.
So why did it feel like more?
She turned onto her side, pulling the blanket closer.
"You're just overthinking Irene," she whispered to herself.
Eventually, exhaustion got hold of her and she slept.
The next day at work, Irene found herself taking peaks at the café door more often than she should have.
Every time it opened, her heart jumped.
But it was never him.
By the end of her shift, she felt… strangely disappointed as if she was expecting him to show up.
The second day passed the same way.
And by the third,
She told herself she didn't care anymore or so she thought.
She had just finished delivering a coffee to table four and was on her way back to the counter when she heard the café door open.
And this time…
She didn't look.
"Just another customer" that's what she told herself.
She kept walking.
But then;
She caught a whiff.
A faint scent.
Familiar. Sweet. But masculine at the same time.
Her steps slowed.
The same cologne.
Before she could stop herself, Irene looked back.
And there he was.
Walking in like he had never left.
Calm. Unhurried.
Like the past three days meant nothing.
He walked straight past her and took his seat.
Table eight.
The same one.
By the window.
"Are you okay?" her manager asked.
"Yes yes" she said quickly.
But obviously she wasn't.
"Coffee" he exclaimed.
Irene walked over.
"Black. Two sugars. Cream" he added.
She nodded.
She turned back going towards the counter...
"Make that two" he said lightly in a manly voice.
Irene paused and turned to him.
"Two?" she asked.
"That's right" he said.
"Alright coming up" she said.
The café had gone unusually quiet.
The rush from earlier had died down, leaving only a few scattered customers behind enjoying their meal.
Her manager had disappeared into the back room probably dealing with inventory or another pointless complaint.
Irene glanced around briefly.
No one was really paying attention.
She grabbed the two coffees when they were ready and made her way back to table eight.
Setting them down carefully.
"Are you expecting someone?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
His eyes lifted to hers.
Calm. Steady.
"No" he said softly.
Irene looked confused and clueless...
"Then why two?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he leaned back slightly, his eyes settling on her again.
Calm.
"Sit with me," he said.
Irene's breath caught and her heart skipped a beat.
For a moment, she thought she misheard him.
"What?" she asked.
His gaze didn't shift.
"Sit." he repeated.
Not loud. Not forceful.
But there was something about the way he said it…
Something that made it hard to ignore.
Irene's fingers tightened slightly around the tray clearly looking frustrated.
"I'm working" she said, though her voice wasn't as firm as before.
"For five minutes," he replied.
Her heart pounded.
This was wrong.
She knew it was.
So why… why was she still standing there?
- Writer
