I went back to my table and sat down, and for the first time in months I felt like a person instead of a brand.
I lasted another twenty minutes before Owen showed up.
He walked in like he owned the place, spotted me immediately despite the disguise, and dropped into the chair across from me with zero ceremony.
“Nice hat,” he said. “Really selling the incognito vibe.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“You texted me the address three hours ago and said, and I quote, 'If I'm not home by six, assume I've been kidnapped by overly enthusiastic fans.'”
“I did not say that.”
“You absolutely did.” He flagged down the barista and ordered something complicated with oat milk and extra espresso. “So. How's your attempt at being a normal human going?”
“Great until you showed up.”
“Liar. You look miserable.” He leaned back in his chair, grinning. “You got recognized, didn't you?”
“Within ten minutes.”
“Classic. The disguise makes it worse, by the way. You look like you're about to rob the place.”
“It usually works.”
“No it doesn't. You just tell yourself it does.” His coffee arrived and he took a sip. “So. What's the verdict on the new coach?”
“Good, I think. He knows what he's doing. Doesn't take shit from anyone.”
Owen leaned forward, eyes gleaming with the specific kind of mischief that meant trouble. “Is he hot?”
“What?”
“The coach. Is he hot?”
“He's my coach.”
“That's not an answer to the question.”
I stared at my coffee. “He's fine. Normal looking. I don't know, I'm not thinking about whether my coach is hot.”
“You're definitely thinking about it now.”
“Owen.”
“I'm just saying, if you're gonna develop a crush on someone, at least make it interesting. How old is he?”
“Forty-one.”
Owen's grin widened. “Oh, this is perfect. You've got a thing for the silver fox coach. This is like a bad romance novel.”
“I don't have a thing. I have respect for someone who's good at their job.”
“Sure. And I'm the Queen of England.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Does he do the whole stern-but-fair routine? Because I feel like that's your type.”
“I don't have a type.”
“Everyone has a type. Yours is apparently authority figures who can tell you what to do.”
