Unscripted

chapter 2

The café had settled into a comfortable hum of chatter and clinking cups, but my stomach refused to settle. I stared at my coffee, trying to make it last, but my mind was elsewhere—on Malachi, on Noah lurking outside, on the way the rain had soaked my hoodie before I'd walked in.

Malachi, of course, seemed entirely unaffected. He leaned back in his chair, arms resting casually on the table, smirk playing at the corner of his mouth like he had some private joke he wasn't sharing.

I wanted to hate him for it. I tried, really. But the tiny shifts in his posture, the subtle way his gaze found mine, made it impossible.

Sway, however, seemed to notice immediately. She bounced slightly on the tips of her feet, grinning. "Oh, I see how it is. You're not even trying to hide it, Freya. Barton's got you all flustered."

I shoved my notebook in front of my face, pretending to be absorbed. "I am not flustered."

"You're the definition of flustered," Sway countered, leaning closer, skateboard scraping lightly against the floor.

Arianna leaned over from the other side of the table, grinning knowingly. "Honestly, I think I like seeing this side of you, Freya. Usually, you're all... composed and serious. But Barton... he seems to know exactly how to get under your skin."

I glared at both of them. "You two are impossible."

Malachi tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk still tugging at his lips. "They're just observant," he said casually, though his eyes lingered on me longer than they should.

Before I could respond—or even argue—my attention snapped to the door. Noah. He hadn't come inside yet, but he lingered just long enough to make my stomach twist. My hands tightened around my coffee cup, and I could feel the tension coiling in my shoulders.

"Ignore him," I muttered quietly, but Malachi caught it.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning just slightly forward. "He's not exactly subtle, is he?"

"Nope," I said tightly. "And he never respects boundaries."

Malachi smirked faintly, but there was a glimmer of something softer behind it. "Sounds exhausting."

I wanted to nod, wanted to agree, but my throat was too tight. Instead, I picked at my sleeve, hoping to hide the flutter in my chest.

Arianna, never missing a beat, leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "Do you two always communicate through subtle glances and tension? Because it's... intense."

"Intense is an understatement," Sway added. "I'm documenting this for later. Freya + Barton = chaos. Guaranteed."

I groaned, wishing I could hide under the table. But Malachi—ever present—didn't give me the chance. He reached subtly across the table, brushing a stray strand of wet hair from my face, just lightly enough to feel intimate but casual enough to make me question everything.

I froze. The movement was so small, so fleeting, but it left a spark behind, and I had no idea what to do with it.

"You should dry your hair," he said softly, almost like a suggestion, almost like a command. The smirk was gone for the first time tonight, replaced by something unreadable.

"I can manage," I said quickly, voice tighter than I intended, cheeks burning.

Malachi didn't comment further. He just leaned back, watching, patient, letting me process the small interaction while Noah still lingered outside like an unwelcome shadow.

Sway nudged me. "You're blushing. Admit it."

I wanted to punch her. Instead, I grabbed my coffee cup and stared into it, pretending the swirl of cream was fascinating.