Chapter 7 7
Annabeth's POV:
I stood in front of my closet in just my underwear and a sports bra, staring at three different outfits laid out on my bed like some kind of fashion crime scene. The jeans and green sweater looked too casual, the sundress too much like I was trying, and the black pants with the nice blouse made me look like I was going to a job interview and not a casual lunch that definitely wasn't a date.
Because it wasn't a date. It was just... gratitude. He was thanking me for helping him. That's all.
I put on the jeans and sweater, looked at myself in the mirror, and immediately took them off. Too boring. The sundress went on next, a light blue thing I'd bought last summer and worn maybe twice. I turned in front of the mirror and felt ridiculous. Way too much.
"Shit," I muttered, pulling it over my head and tossing it on the bed.
The black pants and blouse won by default, mostly because I was running out of time and my aunt would start asking questions if I spent any longer in here. I put them on, checked myself one more time, and decided it would have to do. Professional but not trying too hard. Casual but not sloppy.
Who was I kidding? I was definitely trying too hard.
My perfume sat on the dresser, the good stuff I'd gotten for my birthday last year and saved for special occasions. I picked it up, put it down, picked it up again. This wasn't a special occasion. This was just lunch. Just two people eating food together in a public place.
I sprayed it on my wrists and neck anyway.
My phone showed 12:47.The café was maybe ten minutes away, which meant I'd be exactly on time if I left right now. Fortunately, I had returned early from the university and had time to take a shower and get ready.
I grabbed my purse, checked that I had my keys and wallet, and headed downstairs before I could change my mind about literally anything.
"Going out?" my aunt called from the living room where she was reading. She'd taken the day off because she'd had a routine medical appointment.
"Yeah, just... meeting someone for lunch."
"That boy you mentioned?"
"Uh-huh."
I'd told her the short and non-dangerous story after all, only that he'd felt ill outside the store and I'd helped him.
She looked up from her book, her expression doing that thing where she was trying to seem casual but was clearly very interested. "What time will you be back?"
"I don't know, a couple hours maybe? It's just lunch."
"Okay. Have fun. I hope he's well enough now."
I escaped before she could ask more questions.
The café was called The Daily Grind, which was a terrible name but apparently it had good sandwiches according to some guys Kaelen had overheard. I found parking on the street and sat in my car for a full minute, breathing, telling myself to act normal.
Through the window I could see him already inside, sitting at a small table near the back. He was looking at his phone, and even from here I could see that he looked... good. Really good. He wore a dark blue shirt that made his eyes stand out, his blonde hair was styled but not too styled, and when he glanced up toward the window I quickly looked away before he could catch me staring.
Again.
I got out of the car, locked it twice because the first time I wasn't sure it actually locked, and walked to the café entrance. A little bell rang when I opened the door. The smell hit me immediately: coffee, bread, something cinnamon.
Kaelen looked up and smiled, and I felt that stupid flutter in my chest that I absolutely did not have time for.
"Hey," he said, standing up as I approached. "You found it okay?"
"Yeah, it wasn't hard."
"Good. I already ordered a coffee, do you want something? My treat."
"Oh, no, I can—"
"Annabeth, I'm buying you lunch. That's literally why we're here."
I laughed, feeling my face heat up. "Okay, fine. Um, iced latte? And whatever sandwich you recommend."
He went to the counter to order and I sat down at the table, which was even smaller than it had looked from outside. Like, seriously tiny. Our knees were almost touching underneath and I had to angle myself to the side to avoid actually bumping into him.
He came back with a number placard for our order and sat down across from me, our legs definitely brushing now. He moved his knee away immediately, but I could still feel the spot where we'd touched, warm and electric.
"So," he said. "How were classes this morning?"
"Long. My Chemistry professor talked for forty-five minutes about lab safety procedures. I'm pretty sure we all know not to drink the chemicals by now."
"You'd be surprised. My freshman year someone tried to use a Bunsen burner to light a cigarette."
I laughed. "That's... wow. Did they survive?"
"Barely. Lost his eyebrows though."
We fell into conversation easier than I expected, talking about classes and professors and the general weirdness of college life in a town this small. He asked about my interest in biology and I found myself actually explaining about wanting to study marine life eventually, maybe work in conservation, and he listened like he genuinely cared instead of just waiting for his turn to talk.
Our food came. The sandwiches were huge, stacked high with turkey and avocado and sprouts, and I had to use both hands to keep everything from falling out when I took a bite.
"Good choice," I said, my mouth half full.
"Told you."
We ate in comfortable silence for a minute. Then, because apparently I couldn't help myself, I said: "So I have to ask you something."
He looked up, mid-bite. "Okay?"
"Your injuries. The ones from that night." I put down my sandwich and leaned forward a little. "How is it actually possible that you healed that fast? Because I've been thinking about it and there's no way. Ice doesn't work like that. The human body doesn't work like that."
His expression changed, something shuttering behind his eyes. He finished chewing, took a sip of his coffee, and I could see him choosing his words carefully.
"I told you, it looked worse than it was."
"Kaelen, I saw your face up close. You had a split lip and your eye was swelling. I'm not imagining that."
"The lighting was bad."
"Not that bad."
He set down his coffee cup, his jaw tight. "Why does it matter so much?"
"Because..." I hesitated, not sure how to explain without sounding crazy. "Because things don't add up. And I don't like when things don't add up."
"Sometimes things are just... coincidences. Awful lighting, adrenaline making injuries seem worse than they are, fast healing because I'm young and healthy." His voice was calm but there was tension in his shoulders, in the way he held himself very still. "It's not some big mystery, Annabeth."
But it was. I could tell by the way he wouldn't quite meet my eyes, by how carefully he spoke, by the fact that he was lying and we both knew it.
Could he possible have an identical twin? Nah, that seemed pretty impossible.
I should have pushed harder. But something in his expression made me stop, made me realize that whatever the truth was, he wasn't ready to tell me. Not yet.
"Okay," I said finally. "If you say so."
He relaxed slightly. "Thank you."
We finished eating, the conversation shifting back to safer topics like bad movies we'd watched recently and whether the cafeteria food was actually edible or just theoretically food. By the time we left, the weird tension had faded into something warmer, easier.
Outside, the afternoon sun was bright and I squinted against it, fishing in my purse for my sunglasses. I stepped off the curb still looking down and my foot caught on something, the edge of the sidewalk or my own clumsiness, I don't even know.
I stumbled forward.
His hands caught me around the waist, steady and sure, pulling me back before I could face-plant into the street.
"Careful," he said, and his voice was right by my ear, low and warm.
I was pressed against him, his chest solid behind me, his hands firm on my waist. He smelled like... I don't even know how to describe it. Something warm and clean and almost spicy, not cologne exactly but something that made me want to turn around and bury my face in his neck to figure out what it was.
"Thanks," I managed to say, and my voice came out breathier than I intended.
For a second, maybe two, neither of us moved. His hands stayed on my waist, my back against his chest, and I could feel his breath on my hair. The moment stretched, heavy and charged, and I was suddenly very aware of every point where our bodies touched.
Then he stepped back, his hands dropping away, and I immediately missed the contact.
"Sorry," he said. "You good?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wasn't watching where I was going."
"I noticed." He smiled a little. "You were looking at me instead of the street."
Busted.
My face burned. "I was not."
"You definitely were."
"Shut up."
He laughed, and the tension broke into something lighter but still there, still simmering under the surface.
We said goodbye at my car, an awkward moment where neither of us seemed sure how to end this. A hug? A handshake? Standing three feet apart and waving like idiots?
"I'll text you," he said finally.
"Okay. Yeah. Cool."
Cool? God, I sounded like an idiot.
He waited until I got in my car and started the engine before walking away, and I watched him in my rearview mirror until he turned the corner and disappeared.
The drive home took maybe ten minutes but I barely noticed. My brain was stuck on that moment when he caught me, when his hands were on my waist and his smell surrounded me and everything felt too warm and too close and exactly right.
I parked in the driveway and sat there for a minute, my hands still on the steering wheel.
That's when I noticed it.
I was hot. Not just warm, but burning up, like I'd just run a marathon or had a fever. I pressed my hand to my forehead and it came away almost sweaty. My skin felt like it was radiating heat.
But I didn't feel sick. I felt... alive. Awake. More present in my body than I'd ever been.
What the hell was happening to me?