"You're absolutely staring," Colby said, picking up his menu. "And she's going to notice if you keep doing it."
Hank grabbed his own menu, determined to focus on breakfast options instead of the woman two tables over. Eggs. Bacon. Toast. Simple. Easy. Except his eyes kept sliding past the laminated pages toward Bree, noting the way she sipped her coffee, and how her expression shifted from amusement to something more thoughtful.
The waitress appeared, and they ordered. Hank asked for the special without even knowing what it was, his mind too occupied to care about food.
"So," Brian said the moment the waitress left, "are you going to talk to her, or just pine from a distance like some tragic hero?"
"I'm not pining."
"He's totally pining," Brian told Colby.
"Definitely pining," Colby agreed. "Look at him. I've never seen Hank look at anyone like that."
"Can you two shut up?" Hank shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable and failing. "I barely know her."
"Which is why you should go talk to her." Brian leaned forward, his expression turning serious despite the teasing tone. "Come on, Hank. When's the last time you looked at a woman like that? When's the last time you let yourself be interested in anything besides Julie and the race?"
Never, Hank thought. Or at least not since the fire, not since his life had narrowed down to survival and purpose and dreams that felt just out of reach.
"She's looking over here," Colby said quietly.
Hank's head came up before he could stop himself, and his eyes found Bree's across the café. She'd been mid-conversation with her friend, but her gaze had drifted toward their table, and now their eyes met.
The connection was immediate. Electric. Like touching a live wire.
She didn't look away. Didn't blush or pretend she hadn't been looking. Instead, a small smile curved her lips, tentative and a little surprised, as if she hadn't expected to see him here either.
Hank's chest tightened.
"Go," Brian said. "Before you lose your nerve."
"I don't have the nerve to lose."
"Then go before I drag you over there myself."
Hank stood before he could talk himself out of it. His legs carried him across the café on autopilot, weaving between tables while his brain scrambled to figure out what he was going to say. He'd faced enemy fire with more composure than this.
Bree's friend noticed him first. She glanced up, took in his approach and the way Bree was watching him, and her smile turned knowing.
"I think that's my cue," the woman said, standing smoothly. She touched Bree's shoulder as she passed. "I'll be at the counter. Take your time."
Then she was gone, and Hank was standing beside Bree's table with no backup plan and no idea what to say next.
"Hi," he managed.
"Hi." Bree's smile widened, genuine and warm. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Yeah, I," he gestured vaguely toward his own table, "breakfast."
"Me too." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Apparently, it's the place to be in Copper Moon."
"So I'm learning." He shifted his weight, suddenly aware of how public this was, how many people might be watching. "How are you today?"
"Fine. Only my pride is bruised." She tilted her head, studying him. "How's your conscience?"
"Still guilty."
"Don't be." She gestured to the empty chair across from her. "Do you want to sit?"
