"Xander, what are you doing here?" Tessa asked, her voice tight as she glanced over her shoulder toward the coffee shop door. She’d been wiping down the counter when he walked in, his hoodie pulled low over his face, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He didn’t look at her, just stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
They’d known each other since high school, though not well. Xander had always been quiet, the kind of guy who lingered at the edges of group projects and mumbled answers when called on. Tessa, on the other hand, had been the girl everyone noticed—her warm brown eyes, the way her dark curls framed her face, the effortless way she filled out her jeans. She worked here part-time now, and he’d come in a few times over the years, always ordering the same black coffee, always avoiding eye contact.
"Just wanted to talk," Xander said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the empty tables around them. "About… you know. That night." Tessa froze, her hand tightening around the rag. The air between them felt heavier now, charged with something she couldn’t quite name. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the bell above the door chimed, and a group of customers walked in. Xander’s jaw tightened, and he turned to leave, muttering, "Later."