For a moment, neither of us moved.
I had imagined this moment countless times over the years.
Sometimes he had a different face in my memories. Sometimes I couldn't picture him at all.
My eyes moved over him before I could stop myself.
Dark hair, slightly tousled like he didn't have much care for it. Strong features carved into a face that looked both serious and calm at the same time.
A sharp jawline, a straight nose, and eyes so deep that one could get lost in them.
He had a quiet intensity that made him seem like someone who was always observing more than he revealed.
Even behind the glasses resting neatly on his face, I could feel the weight of his gaze.
His dark eyes held mine for a little longer than what felt normal.
They said so much yet nothing at the same time.
Was it recognition? Curiosity?
I couldn't tell.
"Miss?"
His voice pulled me back.
I blinked.
Awesome, Yareli. So much for a first impression.
"Right, sorry."
I cleared my throat, trying to remember why I was here.
"I'm Yareli. Job's daughter."
A small awkward smile appeared on my face.
I gestured vaguely in the direction of the farm behind me.
"Hm."
That was his only response.
I tightened my hold on the container.
"Right. So..." I lifted it slightly. "I was baking, and I made a little more than necessary. Then I thought, well, I haven't really introduced myself properly, and since we're neighbors, I figured I should bring you some."
My words started coming faster.
"Not that I usually go around giving random people baked goods. And you're not random because you're my neighbor, so—"
I stopped.
My cheeks warmed.
I did not know I could talk this much.
I stared down at the muffin container like it had personally betrayed me.
He remained quiet.
Instead, he stepped back from the doorway.
For a second, I thought he was going to take the muffins.
He simply gestured inside.
"Would you like to come in?"
I looked up.
"Huh?"
"Come in."
The casualness of his voice should not have affected me.
But it did.
Lower. Calmer. And somehow managed to send a strange shiver through me.
"Oh."
I quickly nodded.
"Yes. Of course."
I stepped forward, then paused to dust my boots before entering.
The first thing I noticed was how spacious it was.
The second was how simple it was.
There weren't many pieces of furniture. No unnecessary decorations. The lighting was soft, almost dim, and everything seemed carefully placed.
It suited him.
From what I could tell, he was a simple person.
Though something told me there was more to him than what he chose to show.
He walked toward the living room and took a seat on the sofa.
I followed, choosing the furthest end of the couch opposite him.
Not because I was uncomfortable.
But because we were strangers. Well, strangers meeting for the second time.
The silence settled almost immediately.
The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall.
And my heartbeat.
Fast and loud.
I kept my eyes lowered, staring at the muffin container in my hands like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
I could feel his gaze on me.
He stared a lot.
I mean, a lot.
Crap. What if there was something on my face?
I slowly lifted my hand, ready to casually check, when his voice interrupted.
"Yareli... yes?"
I looked up.
He was sitting beneath the light, and despite the distance between us, I couldn't help noticing him properly.
He was even more striking than when he had opened the door.
I nodded quickly.
"Y-yes. That's right."
I swallowed.
"Yareli Galveston."
"Hm."
Then it hit me.
I knew his initials. But I had never actually known what they stood for.
His eyes stayed on me.
"I'm Adrien."
Adrien.
The name settled somewhere deep.
And for reasons I couldn't explain, it felt like I had finally found the missing piece of a puzzle.
"Please to meet you, Adrien."
The words came out softer than I intended.
"Likewise," came his reply.
I looked down at the container in my hands, suddenly remembering the reason I was here.
"Oh, right."
I lifted it slightly.
"The muffins."
Adrien's gaze moved to the container.
"You didn't have to."
"I know."
The answer came too quickly, and I immediately regretted it.
I cleared my throat.
"I mean, I know. But I'd rather they ended up in your belly than in the trash."
I chuckled awkwardly.
Gosh, what was wrong with me?
Was that supposed to be a joke?
There was a pause.
Then, very slightly, the corner of his mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
But close enough that I noticed.
And unfortunately, I noticed everything.
"Thank you," he said.
I nodded.
"You're welcome."
Another silence.
I was beginning to think this man and silence had some sort of agreement.
He was clearly comfortable with it.
I, however, was fighting for my life.
"So..." I glanced around the room. "You've lived here long?"
"Few years."
"Right."
I nodded like that was a complete conversation.
It was not.
I looked at him again.
"And you like it here?"
His eyes shifted toward the window.
"Yes."
Another simple answer.
"I can understand why," I said, quietly.
My gaze drifted around the room again.
"It's peaceful."
"It is."
The quiet that followed this time felt different.
Less awkward. Almost comfortable.
Then his eyes returned to me.
"And you?"
I blinked.
"Me?"
"You live in the city?"
"Oh."
I nodded.
"Yes. Los Angeles."
"Hm."
There was that sound again.
I was starting to think it was a word all on its own.
"You don't like it?"
I asked before I could stop myself.
His eyes met mine.
"I didn't say that."
"No, but your face did."
I saw something shift in his expression.
A tiny flicker of amusement.
Did he almost smile?
I wasn't sure.
But for some reason, the possibility made me smile too.
Maybe he wasn't as emotionless as he made it seem.
•••