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Chapter Two
“Long black,” he says, looking down as he pulls his wallet out of his black jeans pocket. I’m alone at work this morning, at least for the next hour, but I don’t feel unsafe with the man in front of me.
“What’s your name?” I find myself asking. He lifts his head, blue eyes hitting me full force as he finally looks me directly in the eye for the first time. He’s handsome. His eyes are beautiful. Sure, he could use a shave and a haircut, but he’s still a very ruggedly good-looking man. His shoulders are broad, and I can just tell he’s got a good body under his faded black T-shirt.
“Sylar,” he says in his deep husky tone.
Unusual name for an unusual man.
“I’m Bree,” I say, smiling at him. “Well, my full name is Brielle, but everyone calls me Bree.” Great, now I’m rambling. I clear my throat. “Five dollars, thank you.”
He hands me the money, and as usual, declines when I try to give him back his change.
“Thank you, Sylar. I hope you have a good day,” I say, wondering what he does for a living to tip so highly every time. I mean, it might not be much to some people, but essentially he pays double for his coffee with his tip every time, when he doesn’t have to. I want to ask him, but I think I’ve exhausted my limit on questions for the day. He dips his head at me and leaves the café. I watch him until he disappears.
Sylar.
I don’t know who he is, or what he does, or what his story is.
But I want to find out.
*****
When he comes in the next morning, I flash him a smile and start to make his coffee before he even orders. This time though, when he tries to pay, I tell him, “It’s on the house today.”
He looks confused for a moment. “What?”
“Well,” I say, licking my lips. “You’re always nice and tip, so I thought today I’d return the niceness and give you a free coffee.”
Is niceness a word?
Great, I’m making up words now.
Why do I feel a little nervous?
I’m not usually the type who gets like this when talking to men. I usually don’t care. It’s hard for anyone to get a reaction out of me, penis or not, but right now I just really want him to chat to me.
He studies me for a moment, blinking slowly. “Why are you alone here in the mornings? It’s not safe.”
I shift on my feet. “Why isn’t it safe?”
“It’s just not,” he says, shrugging like he couldn’t care less, but why did he even make that comment then?
He suddenly looks a little uncomfortable when he adds, “You’re an… attractive woman, and you shouldn’t be here alone.”
Instead of getting angry at him telling me what I should or shouldn’t be doing, I can’t help but feel a little amused. And happy that he finds me attractive.
“Are you new to town?” I ask him, knowing that has to be the case.
He nods, then watches as I slide his coffee to him. “Hope you have a good day.”
He takes the coffee, but then places a ten-dollar note on the table. Before I can open my mouth to object, he gives me his back as he exits.
Elijah is the first to show up to the café. Covered in tattoos and piercings, the man is way too overqualified for this job, with two degrees under his belt, but shows up here every day anyway.
“Hey, Elijah,” I say, smiling at him. He looks tired, with bags under his eyes. He must be so drained, working a full day then going home to look after his elderly mother. I’ve never asked him why he doesn’t put her in a home, but either he refuses to on principal or it’s too costly. Each day I tell him to take whatever food he wants for himself and his mother. I also drop by some nights with food I’ve made from home, just so it’s one less thing for him to worry about.
“Morning, Bree.” He winks a blue eye at me. “Busy morning?”
