Page 9 of Born in Fire
I feel heat rising to my cheeks. Lisa is giving me a curious look. “Aren’t you going to order?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says. “Salted caramel and hazelnut latte.”
“Really?” I blurt, then feel my blush deepen. The guy looks like more of a whiskey-on-his-Wheaties kind of man.
“I’m in touch with my feminine side.” He grins. “My brother will take a double espresso.” He jerks his head at the man behind him.
Brother. No surprise there. They have to be twins.
“So… are you going to tell me?” he presses.
“Tell you what?” I frown.
“About your parents.” He leans forward, his eyes locked on my face.
My heart quickens at his genuine interest. I glance at his companion, who watches our interaction with cool assessment, then back to the man before me. In my peripheral vision, I notice Lisa raising an eyebrow as she restocks pastries.
“Not much to tell,” I say, turning to prepare his latte. “They were passionate about astronomy. Passed it on to me, I guess.”
“Any favorite constellations?” he persists, moving along the counter to stay in conversation as I work.
The question conjures memories of nights on our rooftop terrace, my father pointing out Orion’s Belt while my mother explained the mythology behind the hunter’s story. Happy memories, but tinged with the ache of loss.
“Cassiopeia,” I answer, surprising myself with my candor. “The queen who boasted about her beauty and ended up upside-down in the sky as punishment.”
“A cautionary tale about pride,” he observes, watching my hands as I pull the espresso shot.
“Or about speaking your truth despite the consequences.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
He laughs—not mocking, but appreciative. “I like that interpretation better.”
I find myself smiling as I add hot water to the espresso and then add the cup to his latte order. The ease of this conversation unsettles me. It reminds me of the early days with Tyler, how quickly he drew me out, how special he made me feel. Before the control began.
But this feels different somehow. Attentive rather than calculating. When Tyler listened, I later realized he was collecting information to use against me. This guy just seems… interested.
My therapist’s voice echoes in my head:“Not every attractive man is a narcissist, Juno. Caution is healthy, but isolation isn’t healing.”
“Here’s your order,” I say, sliding the cups across the counter. His brother silently picks up the espresso, still watching us. I try not to fidget under his scrutiny.
“Thanks.” He takes his cup and gives me a wink that has my cheeks flushing deeper.
Before I can respond, a customer approaches the register, checking her watch impatiently.
“Excuse me,” I say to him, relieved by the interruption that gives me a moment to collect myself.
I take the woman’s order for a skinny cappuccino, focusing entirely on the process of making it. When I hand it to her and turn back, he’s moved away and is in a heated conversation with his brother. I go back to serving customers, losing myself in the rhythm of it, barely aware of the passage of time.
“Hey,” a chocolaty voice has me jumping slightly.
“Oh!” I startle, then realize that my hand is at my throat and I lower it quickly. “Hey,” I respond, willing my heart rate to settle.
He’s back, watching me curiously. “I’m Dorian, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you.” I begin wiping down the counter, giving my hands something to do.
“I haven’t seen you here before. New to the Grind & Bean?”
“Been here two weeks,” I admit. “Still learning the equipment.”
