Kiara
Alfred's phone buzzed again. He ignored it this time—just looked at me, slow and steady. There was that look in his eyes, the one I couldn't crack. Not just a smirk. Not quite a dare. Something quieter, focused, and for some reason, it made my stomach twist a little.
Before I could say anything, the waitress showed up with a tray.
"Turkey platter," she said, all bright and cheerful as she put the plate in front of him.
I barely had time to blink before a second server walked up.
"Bacon and fries."
Another plate hit the table.
Then a third. "Rice and grilled vegetables."
By the time a fourth plate landed, I was starting to think this wasn't a breakfast—it was some kind of banquet. Our tiny table suddenly needed extensions. I just stared, lost for words.
He stared right back, grinning like he knew something I didn't. "Go ahead," he said, cool as ever. "Have some."
Have some? I looked back down at the mountain of food. Was he serious? "All of this is yours?" I asked, still not quite believing it.
He picked up his fork like he was settling in for just another Tuesday. "Yeah."
"This is your normal breakfast?"
"Yep."
"Are you prepping for a marathon? Feeding a rugby team?"
He let out a small laugh. "High metabolism."
"That's not metabolism," I grumbled. "That's ambition."
He just started eating—slow, calm, like it was the most natural thing in the world. No mess, no crumbs. Every bite measured, everything precise. You'd think he was at a formal dinner, not attacking four plates at a diner. Meanwhile, I was just... frozen.
"You're not eating," he pointed out.
"I'm honestly just processing."
He raised an eyebrow. "Processing what?"
"That you ordered enough breakfast to keep us fed for a week if civilization ended."
He didn't miss a beat. "Better to be prepared."
I gave him a look. "Is this about showing off? Like, you walk in here, order half the kitchen, and just—what—assert dominance?"
He laughed for real that time, head tipping back. "Dominance?"
"Yeah! Like you're establishing your territory. Saying, 'I am the alpha, and I require sides.'"
"That's really not how that works."
"Well, maybe not, but it's working."
He just smiled, then nudged the turkey toward me. "Try this. It's actually good."
I just stared at the plate, then back at him. "You're awfully confident."
He was already finishing another bite. "I've got no reason to fake it when I'm hungry."
That made me pause.
He didn't stop. He kept talking, voice gentle but firm. "You know, people spend too much time acting small."
Suddenly, this felt less about brunch and more like therapy, which tracked.
"You can turn anything into a lesson, can't you?"
He shrugged. "Hazard of the job."
I rolled my eyes but grabbed a fry. No complaints—he noticed, but didn't say a thing. Just watched, that smug light flickering in his eyes again.
"You know," I chewed, "for someone who swears he didn't follow me here, this is looking less like a coincidence."
He didn't blink. "Just luck."
"Very convenient luck."
He leaned back, considering me. "Do you grill everyone over breakfast?"
"Just the suspicious ones."
He watched me with that look again. "Am I actually suspicious?"
I hesitated, then said, "Well, you did just order enough food for four people, ignored your phone three times, and keep looking at me like you're about to share ancient wisdom. So yeah. You're pretty mysterious."
A slow smile spread across his face. He liked that.
"Good," he said.
"Good?"
"I hate being predictable."
He went back to his feast, completely at ease, while I just gawked at him.
Sure, he was eating enough for three, but he made it look almost refined. Not a single spill, no rush, just perfect efficiency. Who does that?
"You're judging me," he said, barely glancing up.
"Absolutely."
"For what, exactly?"
"For eating breakfast like it's the Olympics."
Finally, he looked at me. "Would you rather I fake it? Get a salad and act delicate?"
I opened my mouth, closed it. "Nope."
"Then let me eat."
I gave up and tried not to laugh. "You're unreal."
He wiped his mouth, unbothered. "And yet, you're still here."
He wasn't wrong. And that was the most annoying part.