Chapter 1
“I’ve seen you here three Thursdays in a row. Same coffee. Same seat. Same nervous habit of reading the last page first.”
A faint smirk.
“You really should pay more attention to who’s watching you.”
“Excuse me, what did you say? How… how do you know?” You shift uncomfortably in your seat.
The smirk only grows. He tilts his head slightly, studying you.
“Don’t sound so surprised you were noticed. You stand out.”
He takes a sip of his coffee, never breaking eye contact. Something about the way he watches is so… sharp. Intensely focused. Like he’s picking you apart piece by piece.
“I do? I don’t think I stand out.” You tap your fingers on the table to ease your growing nerves.
He lets out a low chuckle.
“You think that, but you’re wrong. The way you drum your fingers when you’re thinking,three taps, always three. The way your voice gets quieter when you lie. That scar on your left wrist you keep hiding.”
He leans in slightly, his voice dropping.
“Most people move through the world like ghosts. You? You leave traces.”
“What traces do I leave behind? You know an awfully lot about me. Are you a stalker or something?” You stop tapping your fingers against the table and swallow hard.
A slow, amused smile.
“Stalker? Me?”
He says it casually, though his expression doesn’t quite match the light tone. There’s something dark behind his eyes, something almost… possessive. He doesn’t move away, his gaze still fixed on you, taking in every detail.
“I just pay attention. More than you think.” He pauses, then adds, “Like right now. You’re clenching your jaw. You’re either scared or angry. Maybe both.”
“I’m neither of those things. You don’t know anything about me.” Your heart starts thundering against your chest.
His smirk grows again as he leans against the wall, looking completely relaxed.
“Not scared, huh?” The corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Then why is your heart pounding faster?”
He tilts his head slightly, waiting for a response. It’s unnerving, being watched so intensely. His gaze feels like a weight, pinning you in place.
“My heart’s racing because of the coffee.” Your eyes narrow at him.
Low, almost amused laughter.
“Coffee?” He looks at your almost-empty cup, then at you again, still wearing that slight smirk. “I watched you dump all that sugar in it. It’s hardly even coffee anymore. Nice try, though.”
He takes another slow, casual sip from his own cup, keeping his eyes fixed on you like a lion sizing up its prey.
He leans slightly forward.
“Want to try that again? Tell me the real reason why you’re so nervous.”
“Because you watch me. You’re literally a full-blown stalker…” Your fingers brush through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear.
His expression shifts slightly not angry, not defensive, just amused in a dark, knowing way.
He clicks his tongue.
“Stalking implies I don’t care if you notice.” He takes a slow step closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I wanted you to. And look…”
A lazy gesture at the space between you.
“Here we are.”
That unsettling, intense focus sharpens.
“Tell me to walk away. Mean it. I’ll disappear.”
A beat. A challenge.
“Or ask me why I’m here.”
You don’t know why you ask him, but curiosity gets the best of you.
“Then why are you here?” you ask.
His smirk turns into something softer, almost intimate, like he’s savoring this moment.
“Because you’re the first interesting thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s determined to solve.
“You look at people like they’ll disappoint you. You plan conversations before they happen. You pretend you don’t care, but your hands give you away,always moving, always restless.”
A slow exhale.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Where do I work?” Ignoring his question, you test how much he really knows about you.
A flicker of surprise crosses his eyes before he answers without hesitation.
“Corporate office. Accounting. And before you ask, yes, I do know your boss’s name.”
He leans against the wall next to you, still close enough to tower over you.
His smirk creeps back.
“I’m not guessing, sweetheart. I see it written all over you.”
He looks almost pleased with himself. That dark, intense focus never wavers as he adds, “Anything else I can prove I know about you?”
Your breathing hitches as you ask another question.
“Where do I live?”
He gives a quiet, almost lazy laugh, still leaning against the wall.
“A few blocks from here. Second floor above that old bookshop.” There’s something almost dangerous in his soft, matter of fact tone.
“I know which way you walk to work. I know which coffee shops you go to. I know when you stop to look in each window. I know you hate the subway but take it anyway.”
He pauses, studying you.
“Want me to keep going?”
“How do you know all this?” Your heart races, making you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack.
He gives a little half shrug, that almost lazy smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Observe people long enough, and you notice things.” His eyes drop to the coffee cup still clenched in your hand.
“For instance…” He points to your knuckles, white against the cup. “That means you’re nervous.”
He leans slightly closer, his tone soft, like he’s sharing a secret.
“You don’t have to say anything. Your body language speaks for you.”
That’s when you decide you’ve had enough. You make a quick decision to get yourself out of the situation.
“I’ve got to go and, um… feed my cat.”
His smirk broadens slightly, amused again. He watches you with an intensity that’s almost unnerving. But he doesn’t move away, still leaning against the wall, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Your cat, or an excuse to run?” he asks quietly.
You answer quickly, eager to get away.
“My cat. It’s 6 p.m.”
He chuckles darkly, unbothered.
“I know. He gets anxious if you’re late, right? Waits by the window at 5:50 exactly.”
A beat. That unsettling, possessive focus lingers.
“Go on, then. I’ll be here Thursday. Same coffee. Same seat.”
A slow smirk.
“Unless you’d rather I walk you home.”
“No, I’m okay, thanks.” You leave the café feeling uneasy.
