Chapter Eight

Alicia’s POV

My last exam was done, the final blue booklet handed in, pen capped, no more questions rattling in my head. It felt amazing to be done with exams and not have to think about books for a few weeks.

I handed Mirabel my bag, and headed towards the library, to meet up with Chris.

The coffee shop Chris had texted about sat just off the main path, tucked between the library and the student union. Glass front, warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk, the kind of place that looked cozy from outside but always smelled faintly of burnt espresso once you stepped in. I paused at the corner, checked my phone, hoping to see a message from him canceling the date. But I got none.

I could still turn around, but I didn’t.

I pushed through the door. The bell jingled, and heads turned—more than a few. I felt the stares slide over me like hands I hadn’t invited. A group of guys at the window table paused mid-laugh, eyes lingering on my legs, my hips, the way my coat hugged my waist. One whistled low, not even bothering to hide it. Another muttered something to his friend that ended in laughter.

I kept my gaze forward, cheeks warming despite the cold I’d just walked in from.

Chris was already at a corner table, with two cups of lattes in front of him, steam curling up. He stood when he saw me, his smile wide.

“Hey. You made it.”

I nodded, and slid into the chair opposite him. “Hey.”

He sat back down, pushed one of the cups toward me. “Vanilla latte. Extra foam. I heard you telling your friend you liked them last semester.”

I wrapped my hands around the cup. Warmth seeped through the cardboard. “Were you stalking me? Thanks though.”

Before he could respond, the bell jingled again. Another group of guys walked in—loud, laughing, wearing hoodies and backward caps. One of them spotted me and slowed, elbowing his friend. “Yo, check the blonde at the back.”

I pretended not to react, I was used to such comments around campus, but Chris couldn’t hide his annoyance.

His jaw tightened. I saw it—the flicker in his eyes, the way his fingers curled around his own cup until the cardboard creased. He shot a look over his shoulder, hard enough that the guys noticed. One smirked, and raised his chin in challenge. Chris’s shoulders squared like he was about to stand.

“Hey,” I said quietly. “Don’t.”

He turned back to me, his expression still tight. “They’re being assholes.”

“They always are. Ignore them.”

He exhaled through his nose, and forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Right. Sorry. Just… hate seeing that shit.”

I took a sip of the latte, it was too sweet. And the vanilla coated my tongue like syrup. “It’s fine.”

We sat in silence for a beat. The shop noise filled the gap—espresso machine hissing, chatter, the low thump of indie music from the speakers. Chris leaned forward, elbows on the table, trying to reclaim the easy charm he usually wore.

“So… going home for the holiday tomorrow. Are you excited?”

“Yeah. Mirabel’s been hyping it up for weeks. I’ll be following her home for the holiday.”

“Big house, right? Rich-dad vibes.”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

He nodded, eyes flicking to my mouth, then back up. “You’ll have fun. Just… don’t forget about us normals while you’re gone.”

I gave a small laugh—more breath than sound. “I won’t.”

Another pause, then he reached across the table, brushed his fingers over the back of my hand. Like he was testing me for a reaction.

“I’m glad you said yes to this,” he said. “Even if it’s just coffee.”

I didn’t pull away immediately. I should have. But I let his fingers stay there for a second—warm, insistent—before I eased my hand back to my cup.

“Chris…”

“I know, I know. One coffee. No pressure.” He smiled again, but it looked thinner now. “But I meant what I said. I think we’d be good together. If you gave it a real shot.”

I looked at him, and he leaned in just a little too close, trying to be sweet. But his expression had changed, even though he tried to hide it, I could still see the flickers in his eyes, the faint edge under the sweetness. The same edge I’d glimpsed when he’d snapped at those guys. That made me realize he's possessive and quick to anger when something wasn’t going his way.

The door jingled again. More students. More eyes. Another low whistle from somewhere near the counter.

Chris’s head snapped toward the sound. His chair scraped back an inch. “Seriously?”

“Chris,” I said, sharper this time. “Stop.”

He turned back to me, jaw clenching. “I’m not gonna sit here and let them—”

“You’re making it worse.” My voice was quiet, but it cut through the noise between us. “You’re staring them down like you own the place. Like you own… me.”

His eyes widened. “That’s not—”

“It is.” I set the cup down. “Why are you jealous, when we’re not even dating? And then you get angry. I’ve seen it. The texts when I don’t answer right away. The voicemails when I say no. The way you look at other guys like they’re stealing something that’s yours.”

He stared at me, mouth half-open.

I kept going, words coming easier now. “I said yes to coffee because I thought it would end this. One date, you’d see I’m not interested, and you’d finally stop. But you’re not hearing me. You’re hearing what you want to hear.”

The color drained from his face. Then flushed back in—red, angry. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna sit here and tell me I’m some creep?”

“I’m telling you I’m not interested. And I need you to respect that.”

He laughed, a short, bitter one. “You’re unbelievable. I’ve been nothing but nice. Patient. And this is what I get?”

The bell jingled again. I didn’t look, I kept my eyes on him.

“I’m leaving,” I said.

He reached out, and grabbed my wrist—not hard, but firm enough to stop me from standing. “Wait. Alicia, come on. We’re just talking.”

I looked down at his hand. Then up at his face. “Let go.”

He did. Slowly. Like it cost him.

I stood, my coat still zipped. “Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t find new numbers. We’re done.”

His mouth opened, closed. But no words came.

I turned and walked out.

The cold hit like a slap. The sidewalk was darker now, with streetlights buzzing on. I didn’t look back.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I crossed the dorm area. I pulled it out, expecting Mirabel.

It wasn’t.

Unknown number: You think you can just walk away? You said yes to a coffee date. That means something. It means you like me too.

I stopped under a streetlamp, staring at the screen in annoyance.

Another buzz.

Unknown: I’ll see you when you get back from holiday. Enjoy.

My thumb hovered over block.