Hostile Affection

Chapter 7: Lattes and Mixed Signals

Troye’s POV

“What are you doing here?”

The words slipped out sharper than I meant the moment I saw him.

We were seated at a table tucked beside a tall bookshelf, the smell of roasted beans and faint traces of old paper hanging in the air like it belonged to us. My café, my space—and yet, with Nicco sitting across from me, fork poised in hand, it felt like I was the guest.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even seem bothered by my tone. He just carved off a neat forkful of blueberry cheesecake, lifted it with slow precision, and let it pass his lips before answering.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” His voice was calm, measured, the kind that made it impossible to tell if he was teasing or accusing. “Why did you go to the bar yesterday? What exactly were you doing there? Were you following me?”

A pause. Then, softer, his eyes steady on mine: “That kiss. Why did you kiss me?”

My throat locked up. I hadn’t prepared for this—for the barrage of questions, each sharper than the last. And certainly not for that one. The truth hovered at the edge of my lips, dangerous and bare. If I said too much, if he pieced together who I was—who my family was—everything would unravel.

“Well?” Nicco pressed, his eyes narrowing slightly though his tone stayed maddeningly light. “Why can’t you answer? Anyway…” He slid another forkful into his mouth. “This blueberry cheesecake of yours? Surprisingly good.”

I forced myself to exhale slowly, steadying the chaos rattling in my chest. “Okay. Hear me out.”

Nicco leaned back, relaxed, like he had all the time in the world. An amused glint danced in his eyes. “I’m all ears, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, darling.”

I shot him a look, but I refused to rise to the bait. That was what he wanted—for me to crack. Instead, I tightened my grip on the edge of the table and pressed forward.

“Yes. I went to that bar on purpose.” My voice came out low, controlled, though every word scraped against my pride. “It was our last resort—after you rejected the peace offering and ignored every email we sent. I thought maybe, if I saw you face-to-face, I could talk to you. Apologize in person. And—”

I faltered. His gaze was steady, too steady, cutting right through me. Sitting this close, I realized something I hadn’t dared admit before: Nicco was even more handsome up close. It was distracting. Unnerving. My thoughts tangled the longer I looked at him, like his presence rewrote the rhythm of my mind.

“And?” he prompted, his voice softer now, almost dangerous.

My mouth was dry. I swallowed, forcing the words out. “And… ask for your help.”

One of his eyebrows rose, slow and deliberate. “My help? With what?”

I had no choice but to tell him.

So I did.

I told him about the café—about how much we’d poured into it, how fragile its survival had become. About how much was at stake, how close the dream was to collapsing if we didn’t do something drastic. I told him the truth I hated to admit: that a single word from him, even one small post, could change everything. Could bring the crowd back through our doors, could keep us alive.

I didn’t hide the desperation in my voice. I couldn’t.

And for the first time since this conversation began, Nicco didn’t interrupt.

***

Nicco’s POV

I’d been trying—God knows I’d been trying—to keep myself composed. But the longer I stared at the man across from me, the harder it became.

There’s just something maddening about Troye Mondejar. Maybe it’s the way his lips move when he talks, soft and deliberate, like every word is weighed before it’s released. Or maybe it’s the way they twitch when he’s nervous, curling just enough to make me wonder if he even knows the effect he has.

Whatever it is, it’s dangerous. It stirs something in me I’d rather not admit.

I want to kiss him again. Badly.

He’d just finished explaining why he’d gone to the bar, why he’d sought me out, and his words were full of sincerity, even desperation. But he skipped over the one part that mattered most to me.

“I think you forgot something,” I told him, keeping my voice even. “The kiss. Why did you kiss me?”

Color flooded his cheeks instantly. He ducked his head, avoiding my eyes like they might burn him. For a moment, he looked so shy, so disarmingly human, I almost let it slide. Almost.

“I—I kissed you because I saw someone I shouldn’t,” he stammered. His eyes flicked nervously, his voice uncertain.

I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. “So you used me as a cover? Seriously?”

I made it sound light, playful even—but deep down, I knew better. That kiss hadn’t been just for show. I felt the heat of it, the hesitation and then the way it lingered. I wasn’t anyone’s shield that night. He wanted it. Wanted me. Even if just for a second.

He pulled in a breath, clinging to what little pride he still had. “So… will you help us?” he asked softly. “I’m not gonna lie—we really need your help.”

I studied him. And damn it, those eyes—earnest, almost pleading—tugged at me in ways I didn’t like. Or maybe I liked it too much.

I could’ve said yes. Ended it right there.

But I didn’t want easy. I didn’t want neat. I wanted him.

“What will you give me in return if I say yes?” I asked, lowering my voice, watching him closely.

He blinked. “Free coffee and pastries for a month?”

I leaned back, lips curving into a half-smile. “I’d rather not die of diabetes.”

He scrambled for another offer. “Fifty thousand pesos?”

I arched a brow. “Bribery? Wow. I thought you were more creative than that.”

He went quiet, clearly running out of options. I decided to save him the trouble.

“I have a suggestion,” I said.

That got his attention. His gaze snapped to mine, wary but waiting.

“What?”

I leaned forward, voice dropping into a whisper, deliberate and slow.

“Be my boyfriend. For a month.”

The words hit him like a stone in water—ripples flashing across his face, widening his eyes, stiffening his shoulders.

“What? Hell no!” he snapped, almost toppling his chair as he bolted up and walked away without even glancing back.

I didn’t move.

I just sat there, a smile tugging at my lips.

There’s no point denying it anymore.

I want him.

And I’ll make him mine.

***

Troye’s POV

I was seconds away from losing my patience.

Kiana and Kent had been on my case ever since Nicco walked out of the café. No matter how many times I tried to change the subject, they circled right back to me—like a pair of caffeinated sharks that had smelled blood.

“I’m ordering lunch,” I said, pretending to be indifferent as I pulled out my phone. “What do you guys want?”

“We want tea,” Kiana shot back instantly. “Spill it.”

She was behind the counter, fiddling with the coffee mixer, but her eyes were locked on me with that mischievous glint she always wore when she sensed drama.

Kent wasn’t far behind. “Come on, man. We’ve been dying to know. What did you two talk about?”

I let out a long sigh. They weren’t going to stop until I gave them something.

“Fine,” I muttered, dropping onto the nearest stool. “I’ll tell you.”

I hadn’t even gotten halfway through when Kiana shrieked loud enough to rattle the pastry plates.

“Wait—you kissed him?!”

I winced. “Could you keep your voice down?”

“I knew you had it in you!” Kent burst out laughing. “Man, I didn’t think you had that kind of game.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I didn’t have a choice. Tobias was there—I saw him. If I didn’t kiss Nicco, my brother would’ve seen me.”

Kiana’s eyes practically sparkled. “Okay, okay. Go on. What happened next?”

So I told them. Everything—the awkward conversation, the apology, the desperate plea for help… and then, finally, Nicco’s absurd counter-offer.

Silence followed when I finished.

Then Kent leaned in. “So? What did you say?”

“Did you agree?” Kiana added, bouncing on her toes.

“Of course not,” I said flatly.

“What?!” Kiana threw her arms up in the air. “You should’ve said yes! Think of the coffee shop!”

“Seriously, dude,” Kent cut in. “You dodged a bullet. That guy? Total heartbreaker. He ghosts people like it’s his hobby.”

“Oh please,” Kiana argued. “It’s just a fake relationship. Our friend wouldn’t actually fall for someone like Nicco.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Kent scoffed. “This guy?” He jabbed a finger in my direction. “NBSB. Never had a serious relationship in his life. He doesn’t even know what falling in love feels like. What if he gets hurt?”

That was enough.

I stood up without a word and walked off, heading straight for the kitchen. Their voices carried behind me, still arguing, but I tuned them out.

Leaning against the stainless-steel counter, I stared at nothing.

Fall for Nicco? Impossible. Sure, he was good-looking—annoyingly so—but definitely not my type. Not at all.

Still… the review. The traffic it could bring. The café needed that. We needed that.

I dragged a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up.

God. What am I supposed to do now?

---

Even after closing, Nicco’s ridiculous offer lingered like a storm cloud in the back of my mind. Say yes? Say no?

I leaned against the train window, watching the blur of neon and streetlights rush by. Rationally, I knew I wouldn’t fall for someone like him—not with that cocky smile and sharp tongue. And yet… wasn’t it ironic that now, of all times, someone was offering to be my first boyfriend?

Twenty-seven years old, and I’d never been in a relationship. Not because I was unlovable—I knew that wasn’t it—but because I’d always wanted my first to mean something. Something real. Not a performance. Not a contract. Not… a marketing ploy.

By the time I got home, the debate in my head had only grown louder.

I dropped my bag on the couch and crouched down to greet the only one waiting for me. “What do you think, Scarlet? Should I accept his offer?”

The white cat blinked at me slowly, then let out a long, judgmental “Meooow.”

I squinted. “Is that a yes or a no?”

Scarlet licked her paw like I wasn’t worth her time.

“Thanks for the support,” I muttered, flopping onto the couch.

The ceiling was all I could look at as guilt tugged at my chest. “I feel bad for Kiana and Kent. We’re already hanging by a thread. If we don’t bounce back soon… we might have to close.”

Scarlet meowed again, a little softer this time, like she knew.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Exactly.”

Eventually, sleep dragged me under.

---

It wasn’t my alarm clock that woke me—it was my phone, buzzing relentlessly on the nightstand. Groggy, I reached for it and squinted at the screen.

Kiana.

It wasn’t even 4:30 AM. My heart leapt. She never called this early. Something had to be wrong.

“Hello? Kiana? What’s going on?” My voice was thick with sleep.

“You are not going to believe this!” she practically squealed. “Check your socials—oh, right. You don’t have any.”

“Kiana,” I groaned. “Just tell me.”

“It’s Nicco,” she said, her voice dripping with glee.

My chest tightened. “Nicco? What about him?”

“Wait—don’t tell me… Did you say yes?”

“Say yes to what? You’re making no sense.”

“I’m asking if you accepted his offer—because Nicco just posted a glowing review of our café on every platform he owns! f*******:, Twitter, i********:—you name it! And it’s blowing up!”

I froze.

“He did… what?” I whispered.

“You heard me! We’re trending nationwide, Troye! The café is going to be packed today, I swear! I’ll see you soon!” she babbled before hanging up.

The phone slipped from my hand.

Nicco had posted the review? Even though I hadn’t agreed to the fake boyfriend deal?

What the hell are you doing, Nicco?

As if the universe had heard me, a notification blinked across the screen.

Unknown Number: Good morning, Cutie! I did it for free, no worries.

I stared at the message. My chest tightened in a way I didn’t like admitting.

There was no mistaking it.

I know it’s you, Nicco.

And suddenly, my heart wasn’t so sure anymore.