I was surprised to find Adam already entrenched at our table, sitting next to Edd and Charlie. He'd been a ghost since the party a week ago.The night he'd been led away by Natasha. Charlie had finally stopped trying to sell him to me after she heard how that night ended, a rare and merciful silence I had fully enjoyed.
"Hey," he said, his voice sheepish and thick with an awkwardness.
I answered with a noncommittal greeting and took my seat. He was visibly struggling, likely replaying their last encounter. I shot a look at Charlie, my eyes demanding an explanation for his presence, but she pointedly avoided my gaze, suddenly fascinated by the ice in her cup.
Adam cleared his throat softly, shifting in his chair. "I wanted to apologize, Everly. I know I practically begged Edd and Charlie to get you to that party, and then you had to witness… that."
I stayed quiet. Part of me was still relieved I'd left back then to avoid the ex drama, but another part knew that accepting the apology was like handing him a fresh pass to try again. The truth was simple. I wasn't into him. But because I lacked the heart to dismantle his self-esteem, I let the silence stretch, hoping he'd take the hint and move on.
He was nothing like Liam. Liam had the quiet, dangerous confidence of someone who didn't care if he was liked, that kind of arrogance belonged to a man who took what he wanted.
I caught myself in the thought and frowned. Him again. Adam was still watching me with hopeful, puppy-dog eyes, and I was just about to find the words to let him down gently when a low commotion rippled through the cafe. I didn't have to look to know the atmosphere had shifted.
Turning my head sideways, I saw them. Liam and his circle were moving through the room like they owned the oxygen in it. His eyes scanned the crowd with a predator's efficiency until they landed on mine. He didn't look away; instead, a slow, knowing smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
I whipped my head back around so fast I nearly cracked my neck.
Charlie's attention was already glued to the elite group as they moved toward their usual seats. "Look at Marissa," she whispered, leaning in. "She's practically glowing. Someone's clearly in love. This is getting interesting."
I only faintly heard her. My skin felt too tight, that familiar "watched" sensation prickling at the back of my neck. I glanced at my watch, realizing I was supposed to be in my art professor's office five minutes ago to discuss my project.
"I have to go," I blurted out, throwing a quick, distracted apology over my shoulder to Adam and the group.
I made my way out of the cafe, walking faster than necessary, acutely aware of the weight of a gaze following me all the way to the door.