The café Harley brought me to was tucked away on a quiet street, far from the crowded main roads.
Small round tables lined the sidewalk, each one occupied by people chatting softly over coffee and pastries.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, warm and comforting.
"This place…" I murmured, taking it all in. "It's nice."
Harley pulled out a chair for me. "I figured you'd like it." His tone was calm, but his eyes lingered on me for a brief second, as if waiting for my reaction.
I sat down, smoothing out my skirt as I glanced around again.
It felt calm here. Peaceful. Different from everything else. Like time moved slower here… or maybe it was just me.
Harley took a seat across from me, resting his arm casually against the table.
A waiter approached a moment later and began speaking in French. "Bienvenue chez Maison Étoile, comment puis-je vous aider aujourd'hui ?"
Translation: Welcome to Maison Étoile, how may I help you today?
I blinked, caught off guard.
Harley responded fluently, his tone smooth and effortless. "Je vais prendre un café noir, et pour elle, un cappuccino et un mille-feuille."
Translation: I'll have a black coffee, and for her, a cappuccino and a mille-feuille.
My eyes widened slightly as I watched him. For as long as I have known Harley, I don't recall him learning French. And yet, the way he spoke—it didn't sound practiced. It sounded natural.
"What?" he asked, glancing at me.
"You speak French?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know?"
I shook my head slowly. "Since when?"
"A while now." He reached for the edge of the table, his fingers tapping lightly against it, almost absentmindedly.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "And you just never thought to mention it?"
He shrugged slightly. "You never asked."
I huffed softly, leaning back in my chair. "You're annoying."
A faint smile tugged at his lips, subtle but real.
The waiter returned moments later with our drinks and a small selection of pastries.
"Voilà, monsieur, madame. Bonne dégustation," the waiter said, placing our order on the table.
"Merci," I said to the waiter before he took his leave. I picked up my cup, wrapping my hands around it as the warmth seeped into my skin. The heat grounded me more than I expected.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. But the silence didn't feel heavy. Just… quiet. Comfortable. The kind of silence that didn't demand to be filled.
I took a small sip and let out a soft breath. I stared at the cappuccino swirling in the cup, watching the foam slowly settle. "This is nice."
Harley nodded slightly. "Yeah." His voice was softer now, almost like he didn't want to disturb the moment.
My fingers traced the rim of the cup absentmindedly as I recalled all the times Harley and I went to the different café back home. It paled in comparison to the ones here. But somehow… those moments had felt just as warm.
"We used to be like this," I said before I could stop myself.
Harley's gaze shifted to me.
"What do you mean?"
I hesitated, then shrugged lightly. "Just… sitting together. Talking. Not overthinking everything." Not wondering what every look meant. Not questioning every silence.
A flicker of something crossed his expression. It was quick—so quick I almost missed it.
"Things change," he said.
I looked down at my cup. "Yeah." My voice came out quieter than I intended.
Silence settled again. This time, it felt a little different. Not uncomfortable. But not as easy as before. Like something unspoken sat between us, just out of reach.
I reached for one of the pastries, breaking off a small piece. As I popped it into my mouth, I caught Harley staring at me. Not casually. Not by accident.
Like he was watching something he didn't want to miss.
I cleared my throat after swallowing the last bit of food and then asked. "You remember our last trip here?"
Harley leaned back slightly. "Hard to forget."
I let out a small laugh. "You mean when I got lost?"
"You didn't get lost," he said. "You panicked."
I crossed my arms and puffed up my cheeks. "I did not panic."
"You called me five times."
"That was because you weren't answering!" Last time I was here, I got separated from my group and ended up in a shady alleyway. Harley was pissed when he eventually found me. I still remember the way his expression changed when he saw me—like something in him snapped into place.
A quiet chuckle escaped him. The sound lingered between us… familiar. Comforting in a way I didn't realize I missed.
My smile faded slightly as the memory settled in. Back then… everything felt simpler. I didn't question things. I didn't feel like I was standing on unstable ground.
"Harley," I said softly.
He looked at me. "Yeah?" His tone shifted—more attentive, more focused. Like whatever I was about to say mattered more than anything else.
I opened my mouth—then paused. The words were there. Right there. Questions I didn't even know how to form properly. Feelings I couldn't quite name.
But something held me back.
I looked away, shaking my head slightly. "Nothing."
His gaze lingered on me a second longer before he leaned back again.
"Alright." But he didn't sound convinced.
I tightened my grip around the cup. Why is this so hard? It shouldn't be. We used to talk about everything.
We continued talking after that, but it stayed light.
Safe.
Like we were both circling around something we refused to touch. Every time the conversation got too close to something real, one of us would pull it back.
Like we were both afraid of what would happen if we didn't.
When we finally stood to leave, the sun had shifted slightly, casting a softer glow across the street.
Harley paid the bill before I could even reach for my purse.
"You didn't have to—"
"I know," he said.
I rolled my eyes lightly but didn't argue. I can count on one hand how many times I have won an argument against him. And this wasn't going to be one of them.
As we stepped back onto the street, a gentle breeze passed between us. For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then, without thinking, I stepped forward. My breath caught when our hands brushed. So did his. The contact was brief—but it lingered.
Neither of us pulled away.
Neither of us reached out.
And just like that—the moment passed. Too quickly.
I wanted so badly to hold his hand, but the nervousness inside of me held me back. Like something invisible was stopping me from crossing that line.
"Where to next?" I asked, my voice softer than before.
Harley glanced at me, something unreadable in his eyes. Not distant. Not cold.
Just… complicated.
"You'll see."
And once again… I didn't know if I was excited—or nervous.
My heart beat unevenly against my chest when Harley extended his hand toward me with a warm smile on his face. This time, there was no hesitation in his movement.
Only mine.
I swallowed the dry lump in my throat before placing my hand in his. His fingers closed around mine gently—but firmly, like he wasn't going to let go.
Warm.
Familiar.
Dangerous.
When I looked up at Harley, I saw something very close to longing lingering in his eyes. And for a second… it felt like he was about to say something.
But he didn't.
He just held my hand.
And walked forward.