The streetlights flickered faintly above me, their glow barely cutting through the chill of the evening. I stood outside the café, my coffee cup growing colder in my hands with each passing second. The warmth it had offered earlier was long gone, much like my patience.
I checked my phone again, a bad habit I couldn't seem to shake. Still no messages. Still no Matheo.
I let out a slow, measured breath, trying to ignore the familiar frustration building in my chest. He was late again. He was always late. And yet, here I was standing, waiting, holding onto the hope that this time might be different.
But it wasn't.
The city buzzed around me, people passing by in a blur of motion and sound. Normally, I could sink into the background, let the noise fade into a dull hum. Tonight, though, it felt suffocating, like every honk of a car or burst of laughter was mocking me for standing here like an idiot.
"Long night?"
The voice came from somewhere to my left, calm and low enough to blend into the chaos but sharp enough to reach me.
I turned my head, already bristling. A stranger. Great.
He was leaning against the railing a few feet away, his posture casual, hands tucked into the pockets of a black sweater. His dark, messy hair caught the faint glow of the streetlights, and his sharp jawline shifted slightly as he smirked. He didn't look out of place in the city if anything, he looked like he had stepped out of some magazine and just decided to stop here for fun.
I frowned, my grip tightening on the coffee cup. "Do I know you?"
He tilted his head, the smirk softening into something closer to a grin. "Not yet. But I think we're off to a great start."
I didn't bother hiding my irritation. "Then don't bother."
"Fair enough," he said, but the way he stayed leaning against the railing made it clear he wasn't going anywhere. "You just looked like you could use some company."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you thought you'd be the right company?"
He let out a soft laugh, like he was amused by my annoyance. "I guess not, judging by that death glare." He paused, glancing at the cup in my hands. "But, hey, the coffee doesn't seem to be doing much for you, either. Maybe we're both bad company."
His words, paired with that faint teasing grin, were infuriating. I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or just… like that. Either way, I didn't want to deal with it.
"What do you want?" I asked, my tone flat.
"Nothing." He shrugged, his voice calm and almost dismissive. "Just thought I'd recommend the café down the street. Better coffee, warmer seats. And they don't leave you standing outside for hours."
"I'm fine here," I snapped, sharper than I intended.
"Of course you are," he said, like he was agreeing just to humor me. "But if this is your definition of fine, I'd hate to see what bad looks like."
I glared at him, biting back the urge to tell him off. He was still smirking, but there was something about the way he stood there calm, unbothered that made it impossible to shake him off.
"You talk too much," I muttered.
"Noted," he replied, still grinning. "I'll leave you to your coffee, then. If it gets too cold, though, that café's not far."
"Are you done?"
"Almost," he said, stepping away from the railing. "Just one last thing try not to freeze out here. I hear hypothermia's a terrible way to go."
I blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. It wasn't serious, exactly, but it wasn't playful either. Before I could respond, he gave a small wave and disappeared into the crowd.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my fingers tightening around the cup. As if I'd go anywhere with a strange man. The audacity.
Still, his words lingered, uninvited and unwelcome. I tried to shake them off, focusing instead on the cold seeping into my fingers and the silence of my phone.