Chapter Nine
My phone stayed quiet longer than it should have.
I noticed it because I kept noticing it, which was annoying in itself. I placed it face-down on the table, then flipped it back over a minute later like it might punish me for ignoring it.
Nothing.
I laughed under my breath. At myself, mostly.
By the time I met Hannah later, she took one look at my face and stopped mid-sentence.
"Oh no," she said. "That look."
"What look?"
"The one where you're pretending nothing is happening while clearly living inside a whole situation."
"There is no situation."
She smiled, slow and satisfied. "That's exactly what people say right before there is."
We were seated across from each other, iced drinks sweating onto the table. Hannah stirred hers absentmindedly, watching me like she already knew the ending and was waiting for me to catch up.
"You and Julian were quiet last night," she said.
"We texted."
"You texted," she corrected. "You didn't joke."
I frowned. "We joked."
"You sent one laughing emoji. That's not joking, that's emotional restraint."
I rolled my eyes. "You analyze everything."
"And you avoid everything," she shot back. "We balance each other."
My phone buzzed.
I didn't even try to hide it this time.
Julian: You disappeared.
I typed, deleted, typed again.
Me: I didn't disappear. I slept.
His reply came faster than it should have.
Julian: Sure.
Hannah leaned forward. "What did he say?"
"Nothing."
She laughed. "You're a terrible liar."
I sighed. "He thinks I disappeared."
"And did you?"
I hesitated.
She grinned. "Exactly."
Another message appeared.
Julian: Coffee later?
Hannah clapped her hands once. "There it is."
"I didn't say yes."
"You didn't say no either."
"I'm busy."
"You're always busy," she said. "And yet, somehow, you're free for him."
That annoyed me because it was accurate.
I typed back.
Me: Maybe.
Julian: I'll take that as a yes.
I frowned at the screen. "He's too confident."
Hannah laughed. "No, he's comfortable. There's a difference."
We met later than planned. Not intentionally. It just happened that way, like we were both testing how much space we could give each other without snapping the thread.
When I arrived, he was already there, leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. He looked up immediately, like he'd been waiting longer than he'd admit.
"You're late," he said.
"You said later," I replied. "This is later."
He smiled. "You always win arguments like that."
"Only the important ones."
We ordered, then stood awkwardly for a moment, neither of us moving toward a table. He gestured toward the corner.
"Same spot?"
I paused. "We have a spot now?"
He shrugged. "Apparently."
That felt like something we should acknowledge. We didn't.
We sat, cups between us, the space small but not uncomfortable. Comfortable was the problem.
"You didn't text back last night," he said casually.
"You noticed."
"I always notice."
I raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"
He looked at me, really looked, then smiled like he'd said too much.
"Since a while," he said.
I laughed to break the moment. "That's not an answer."
"I wasn't trying to give one."
We talked. About nothing important. About everything else. He told me a ridiculous story about his coworker. I told him about Hannah threatening to set me up with someone just to prove a point.
"What point?" he asked.
"That I'm not emotionally unavailable."
He snorted. "You're not."
"Oh?"
"No," he said, leaning back. "You're just selective."
That landed harder than it should have.
My phone buzzed again.
Hannah: Did he smile when you walked in? Blink twice for yes.
I hid the screen. "She's unbearable."
"She's protective," Julian said.
"You sound like you like her."
"I do," he said easily. "She sees things early."
I met his eyes. "What does she see?"
He didn't answer right away. His fingers traced the rim of his cup, slow, thoughtful.
"I think," he said carefully, "she sees you standing still while something keeps walking toward you."
My chest tightened. "And what do you see?"
His gaze held mine. Not playful. Not teasing.
"I see you pretending this is harmless."
The air between us shifted.
Neither of us smiled.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
I glanced down.
We need to talk about Julian.
My stomach dropped.
Julian noticed. "What is it?"
I looked up at him, the café suddenly too loud, too close, too full of things I hadn't planned for.
"I think," I said slowly, "this coffee just turned into a problem."
And before he could ask anything else, the phone buzzed again.
Same number.
Tonight. Don't ignore this. I didn't know who it was. But I had a feeling they knew exactly what we were pretending not to name.