Unscripted

chapter 1

Malachi stopped beside the table, looking down at me. "Seat taken?" he asked, tone neutral but eyes sharp.

"Nope," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. He slid in across from me, and I could feel the heat of his presence even with the table between us.

Arianna, sensing the tension—or maybe just enjoying it—grinned. "So... this is awkward, isn't it?"

"You could say that," I muttered, pulling out my notebook and pretending to check something. Anything to avoid looking directly at Malachi.

Sway, on the other hand, was unfazed. "Oh, come on, Freya. You're blushing. Admit it."

I blinked at her, startled. "I am not—"

"Yep, totally blushing," Sway interrupted, leaning over to squint at my face like she had a thermal scanner for emotions.

Malachi's smirk widened, though he tried to hide it behind his cup of coffee. "She's very expressive," he said quietly, just loud enough for me to hear. My ears burned, and I shifted in my seat.

Before I could respond—or deny—it, my attention was drawn to the window. Noah was still outside, pretending to browse the street, but his eyes kept finding mine. My stomach twisted.

"Ignore him," I muttered under my breath.

Malachi's hand rested near the edge of the table, close enough to notice, close enough to make me nervous. "He's not exactly subtle, is he?" he said, voice low.

"Nope," I said tightly, gripping my notebook. "And he never learns boundaries."

"Sounds... exhausting," he murmured, leaning back slightly. There was something in the way he said it, something that felt more protective than teasing, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

Arianna, oblivious to the subtle tension, had already flagged down a waitress. "Table for six, please! And maybe the largest pastries you've got—we've had a dramatic evening."

Sway groaned, "Dramatic is an understatement. I counted three potential disasters before we even came in."

MK chuckled softly, finally sliding into the booth next to Sway. "I'm just here for the commentary. And maybe a croissant."

I tried to focus on the menu, to block out Malachi's presence and Noah's lurking figure outside. But it was impossible. Every time Malachi's eyes flicked to mine, my chest tightened in a way that made me aware of him in a way I hated—and maybe, secretly, didn't.

Noah shifted again, pulling his jacket tighter and glancing inside. My stomach sank, but Malachi noticed, his gaze flicking toward the window. A single raised eyebrow, a slight tightening of his jaw—and suddenly I felt a strange sense of security. He was watching. Not threatening, not overbearing... just watching.

I reminded myself this was ridiculous. He was Malachi Barton. My "enemy." And yet, right now, with Noah outside and the rain softened into a drizzle, having him here felt... reassuring.

The waitress arrived with coffees, a few pastries, and an apologetic smile for the damp umbrellas dripping on the floor. Arianna immediately dug into her croissant, Sway balanced her drink precariously on the table, and MK just leaned back, taking it all in.

Malachi's fingers brushed the edge of the table near mine as he picked up his coffee. I froze for a moment, heart hammering, and caught his smirk. "Careful," he said softly, almost teasing, almost serious.

"Careful?" I echoed, though my voice betrayed nothing.

"Careful," he repeated, and that single word held a weight I couldn't place.