Unscripted

chapter 2

Arianna, ever the mediator, sighed dramatically. "Honestly, Freya, maybe you should just let him annoy you. Might make life easier."

Malachi's smirk returned, subtle, dangerous. "Maybe she likes it," he murmured, barely above a whisper. His gaze flicked to mine, and in that instant, I felt my heartbeat speed up, despite every rational thought screaming that he was impossible, infuriating, and far too close.

The evening stretched on, slow and deliberate, every glance and gesture building an unspoken tension I couldn't name but couldn't ignore. Outside, Noah's figure remained a constant reminder of the past, but inside, with Malachi there—watching, teasing, and somehow protective—the night was already shaping into something messy, unpredictable... and entirely unscripted.

The warmth of the café should have been comforting, but all I could think about was Noah, standing just outside the window like he belonged there. Every so often, he shifted his weight, glanced inside, and gave that infuriating smirk. My hands tightened around my coffee cup.

Malachi, ever observant, didn't miss a beat. His eyes flicked to the window, then back at me, calm and steady. "Do you want me to talk to him?" he asked softly, voice low enough that only I could hear.

"I can handle it," I muttered, though my voice lacked conviction. My stomach twisted as I realized how much relief I felt knowing he was right there, ready if needed.

"Suit yourself," he said, leaning back, but there was a glint in his eyes, subtle but sharp. Like he was daring me to admit how stressed I actually was.

Arianna, sensing the tension, waved her hand. "Freya, come on. You're making it worse by staring. Relax—or at least pretend to."

"I am pretending," I said sharply, then immediately regretted the defensiveness in my tone.

Sway, skating lightly on the tips of her feet, grinned. "Pretending is adorable, but you're failing spectacularly."

I groaned. "You are both impossible."

Malachi leaned slightly forward, just enough that his arm brushed the edge of the table near mine. The movement was small, accidental—or maybe not—but it sent a jolt up my arm. My fingers tightened around the cup, trying not to react.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, smirk gone, replaced by that unreadable expression that always made me pause.

"I'm fine," I said quickly, forcing a casual tone.

"Uh-huh," he murmured, clearly unconvinced.

Before I could respond, the bell above the café door jingled. My stomach sank. Noah had come inside. He didn't approach immediately, just hovered near the entrance, surveying the room like he owned it.

Sway muttered under her breath, "Oh no. Here we go."

Arianna leaned forward, whispering: "Freya... do you want me to—"

"No," I interrupted sharply, though my voice shook slightly. "I've got this."

Noah finally spotted me and made his way toward our booth, grinning like he had permission to invade my space. "Hey, Freya. Mind if I join you?"

Malachi's hand shifted slightly, resting near mine on the table, not touching but clearly signaling something unspoken. His voice was calm, low, but carried authority. "I think she said no."

Noah blinked, clearly not expecting that. "Or what?" he challenged.

Malachi's smirk returned, subtle and dangerous. "Or I make sure you leave... peacefully."

Noah's jaw tightened. For the first time tonight, he seemed slightly off balance. He huffed, muttered something about forgetting his umbrella, and left, casting me one last smug glance over his shoulder.