Miss Rachel and David were deep in conversation, their voices a soft murmur between sips of coffee. I tried to focus on what they were saying, but the words barely registered. My mind was still reeling from the fact that David—the man who looked like he had stepped straight out of a dream—was sitting right here, just a few feet away. I couldn't shake the way his green eyes had seemed to latch onto mine, pulling me into some strange, unfamiliar place where nothing felt quite real.
Their conversation was light at first, Miss Rachel asking about his work and how his week had been. David answered with the kind of calm confidence I was starting to realize was just a part of who he was. His voice was smooth and low, like the gentle hum of a summer night, and every word he said seemed to carry weight, even though they were talking about the most mundane things—meetings, business deals, the usual.
"You're working too hard again," Miss Rachel said at one point, a teasing lilt to her voice as she sipped her coffee.
David chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You know how it is. Things pile up, and before you know it, it's midnight, and you're still at your desk."
Miss Rachel rolled her eyes, but there was a softness in her expression. "You need to find some balance, David. There's more to life than work, you know."
He smiled, that same easy, effortless smile that made me feel like the world around him just bent to his will. "I'm working on it."
Their conversation flowed like that for a while—gentle teasing, affectionate reminders, nothing too serious. I found myself glancing at him every now and then, just to see the way his face shifted as he talked. The way his lips curved into a smile, the way his green eyes sparkled with a warmth I hadn't expected. He was so…human. I don't know why, but I had almost expected him to be distant, maybe even cold. But he wasn't. Not with Miss Rachel, at least.
Suddenly, Miss Rachel stood up, her chair scraping softly against the floor. "You guys talk," she said, her eyes twinkling with something I couldn't quite place. "I need to go to the toilet."
I blinked, startled by her sudden departure. Before I could say anything, she was already halfway across the café, disappearing through a door at the back. And just like that, I was alone with David.
Alone.
My heart skipped a beat as I realized how quiet the café had become, the soft murmur of other conversations fading into the background. It was just the two of us now, sitting across from each other in this little corner of the world. David leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but his eyes—those impossibly green eyes—never left me.
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure, but it was difficult. There was something about the way he was looking at me, like he was studying me, trying to figure me out. His gaze was steady, unblinking, and I felt a strange heat rise in my cheeks.
I didn't know where to look. His eyes were too intense, too piercing, and the thought of meeting them made my heart race in a way that was almost uncomfortable. So, I did what any sane person would do in a situation like this—I avoided eye contact entirely.
My gaze drifted to the table in front of me. The empty cups, the crumpled napkin Miss Rachel had left behind, the faint ring of coffee on the wooden surface. I focused on all of it, every little detail, as if it somehow held the secret to making this less awkward.
Don't look at him, I told myself. Just don't fucking look at him.
But the more I tried to avoid his eyes, the more aware I became of him. I could feel his presence like a weight pressing down on me, and it was impossible to ignore. The way his body leaned back in his chair, so casual, so effortless. The way his fingers drummed lightly against the armrest, a soft, rhythmic tap that seemed to echo in my ears.
I stared at my own hands, clasped tightly in my lap. They felt awkward, stiff, like they didn't belong to me. I shifted in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but nothing seemed to work. The air between us felt thick, heavy with something I couldn't quite name.
I glanced up for a split second—just a tiny, stolen glance—and of course, he was still looking at me. His green eyes were locked onto mine, and for a moment, I was frozen. I quickly looked away again, my heart thudding painfully in my chest.
Why is he looking at me like that? I wondered, my mind racing. Does he think I'm weird? Am I being weird?
I didn't know what to do with myself. My eyes darted around the café, desperate to focus on anything but him. I noticed things I never would have paid attention to otherwise—the flickering lightbulb above the counter, the way the barista's apron was slightly crooked, the faint scuff marks on the floor.
But no matter how hard I tried to distract myself, I couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on me. I could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and steady, like he was trying to figure me out. It made me feel exposed, like he could see right through me.
I shifted again, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my sweater. The silence between us stretched on, growing thicker with each passing second. I could hear the faint clinking of dishes from the kitchen, the low hum of conversation from the other tables, but it all felt distant, like I was trapped in this little bubble with him, and there was no escape.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I forced myself to say something—anything—to break the silence. "So… how long have you known Miss Rachel?" My voice sounded too high, too soft, but it was the best I could manage.
David's lips curved into a small, almost amused smile. "All my life," he said, his voice as smooth as ever. "She's practically family."
I nodded, unsure of what to say next. My mind was a jumbled mess, scrambling for something to keep the conversation going. But all I could think about was how awkward I felt, how much I wanted to escape the intensity of his gaze.
David, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. He didn't seem bothered by the silence, or by the fact that I was clearly flustered. If anything, he seemed…amused. Like he was enjoying this, watching me squirm under his gaze.
I swallowed hard, my fingers still fidgeting in my lap. "She speaks very highly of you," I said, my voice quieter now.
"She's kind," he replied, leaning forward slightly. "But don't believe everything she says."
There was a teasing edge to his voice, and for a moment, I felt a tiny flicker of relief. Maybe this wasn't as terrible as I thought. Maybe I could relax, just a little.
I tried to smile, though it felt awkward and forced. "I'm sure she doesn't exaggerate."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You'd be surprised."
I felt a small, nervous laugh bubble up in my chest, and for the first time since Miss Rachel had left, I didn't feel like I was about to pass out from the sheer intensity of the situation. But still, the weight of his eyes on me was hard to ignore. There was something about the way he looked at me that made it impossible to relax completely.
I glanced down at my coffee cup, the remnants of the liquid swirling at the bottom. "I don't think she'd say anything she didn't mean," I added quietly.
David didn't respond right away, and when I looked up, his eyes were still locked on mine, studying me in that same quiet, intense way.
"Well," he said after a pause, his voice soft and thoughtful, "maybe you'll see for yourself."