I smirk, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, black coffee’s a classic. Can’t go wrong with that.” My gaze flickers to his mouth before meeting his eyes again. “But I get it. You like the sweeter things.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, just enough to let me know I’ve hit something. It’s small, but it’s there—a real smile fighting to break through. “You trying to say something there, Alpha?”
I shrug, leaning back, fingers tracing the edge of my mug. I like the way he says that—“Alpha.” It’s soft, almost teasing, but not sharp like I’ve heard from him before. “Just saying I can appreciate something a little sweeter when it’s worth the taste.”
His eyes meet mine, and for a second, I think I’ve managed to chase away some of that sadness. Just for a moment. And maybe he’s picking up on it too—the way we’re not so different. Sure, I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, and he grew up in a mansion, but we’ve both got our walls, both wearing masks we can’t take off.
“So what, you’re trying to be sweet now?” Chad asks, that smirk tugging at his lips again, sharper this time but still real.
“Nah,” I say, lifting my mug to my lips. “Just trying to be real.”
His expression softens, and it hits me right in the chest. For the first time, I think he actually believes me. “Real,” he repeats, like it’s foreign, like he’s testing it out. “Yeah—I like real.”
His eyes hold mine, lingering just a second too long, and something shifts between us. It’s subtle but undeniable, a warmth I feel all the way down to my chest. It’s the way he looks at me, like he’s daring me to prove I’m not like everyone else who’s let him down.
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice dropping lower, almost without thinking. “I can do real.”
Chad leans forward, just slightly, his hand brushing against mine where it rests on the table. It’s barely a touch, light as air, but it’s enough to send a jolt of electricity straight through me. My skin hums with the contact, and for a moment, I have to remind myself to play it cool, to not let him see how much he’s getting to me.
His lips curve into a soft, almost hesitant smile, so unlike the cocky smirks he usually throws around. “You say that like it’s a promise.”
“Maybe it is.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and even as I hear myself, I’m not sure if it’s a tease or the truth. Maybe both.
Chad’s eyes meet mine, and something shifts in the air between us. There’s a heat there now, a weight that wasn’t there before. He leans in just a fraction, testing the space, testing me. My pulse spikes, and it’s like the world narrows down to just this moment—the buzz of tension, the way his knee brushes against mine under the table, the way the air feels too thick to breathe.
“You’ve got that look,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, though there’s an edge of uncertainty in his eyes.
“What look?”
He shifts slightly, his knee pressing more firmly against mine. “Like you want to kiss me.”
It’s bold, and it hits me like a challenge. Normally, I’d laugh it off, toss back some sarcastic quip to defuse the tension, but now? Now, I don’t want to deflect. My gaze drops to his lips—just for a second—and my breath stutters. The pull I’ve been trying to ignore, to shove down and bury, refuses to be ignored any longer. I want him. It’s impossible to deny now.
“You wouldn’t stop me,” I say quietly, almost to myself, though the words hang heavy in the charged air.
Chad’s lips part slightly, his breath catching, and the space between us feels razor-thin. “What if I don’t want you to?”
That’s all it takes. The last thread of restraint I’ve been clinging to snaps. My fingers twitch where they rest on the table, aching to close the gap, to bridge the space between us. The heat rolling off him feels like it’s searing my skin.
Without thinking, my hand moves, brushing up his arm, the fabric of his shirt warm against my palm. He inhales sharply, and I feel it—the quickening of his pulse, his heart racing as fast as mine.
“You feel that too?” My voice is low, barely a whisper, like speaking too loud might break whatever spell we’ve fallen under.
Chad swallows, his gaze locked on mine. There’s a struggle there, written in the tension around his mouth, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. But beneath it all, I see it—the same pull, the same need.
“Yeah,” he breathes, voice soft but certain. “I feel it.”
For a second, the world narrows to just the two of us. The sounds of the coffee shop fade away, and all I can focus on is him—his eyes, his lips, the way his chest rises and falls in time with mine. I lean in, and everything in me tightens, waiting for the moment our lips might meet, for the tension to break.
Lakelyn’s voice crashes through the moment like a brick through glass, shattering whatever fragile connection was building between me and Chad.
"Chad, you didn’t wait for me," she says, her words light but carrying a weight that slams into both of us.
I jerk back from him so fast that my coffee almost tips over. My fingers are still tingling from where they’d almost been in his hair—so damn close to pulling him in for a kiss I had no right to want. Heat floods my face, and I sit up straight, trying to act like we weren’t just about to cross a line that would blow everything apart. My hand drops to my cup, gripping it like a lifeline, but her gaze sears into the back of my neck.
Chad doesn’t move. He’s sitting there, frozen, eyes wide, and for a second, I catch the disbelief in them. He’s surprised she’s here.
Lakelyn steps up beside the booth, her eyes flicking between us. Her expression sharpens as she takes in the scene, and her arms fold across her chest, suspicion creeping into her features. “Mason? What are you doing here?” Her voice is tighter now, guarded.
