The Way He Looks at Me

Chapter One

The dress was a mistake.

I knew it the moment I stepped into the café and felt every pair of eyes glance my way. Red silk clung to me like I’d been poured into it, a little too bold for a casual Tuesday morning. I should’ve worn jeans. Or something neutral. Something that whispered I blend in. But no, I’d chosen the dress that screamed look at me.

And of course, he was there.

Sitting in the corner, half-shadowed, nursing a cup of coffee like it held the answers to life itself. He was the kind of man you notice without meaning to—not just handsome, but magnetic. Sharp jaw, dark hair that looked effortlessly messy, and eyes that seemed to lock on mine the instant I walked through the door.

I froze. Just for a second. My fingers tightened around my bag strap, and I reminded myself to breathe. It wasn’t like I didn’t know him. In fact, that was the problem.

“Stop staring, Mia,” I whispered under my breath, forcing my legs to move.

The café smelled like roasted coffee beans and cinnamon, and I tried to lose myself in the comforting normalcy of it all. But I felt his gaze like a touch, warm and heavy against my skin. I told myself I was imagining it. Except… I wasn’t. Because when I risked a glance back, his eyes were still on me.

And God, the way he looked at me—like he knew every secret I’d ever tried to hide.

“Hi, welcome to Ember Café,” the barista chirped, snapping me back to reality. “What can I get for you?”

“A latte,” I managed, though my voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.

The barista smiled and tapped the order into the register. I fumbled for my wallet, pretending I didn’t notice him still watching. Pretending I wasn’t hyper-aware of the way my heartbeat stuttered every time I thought about those eyes.

I collected my latte and made a beeline for the empty table by the window. Safe. Distant. Out of his line of fire. But the moment I sat down, I realized my mistake. From this angle, I had a perfect view of him. Which also meant—he had a perfect view of me.

Great.

I pulled out my notebook, the one I carried everywhere, filled with messy sketches and half-finished thoughts. If I kept my head down, maybe he’d stop looking. Maybe he’d forget I was here.

But I felt it again—that burn of attention. My pen hovered over the page, frozen. My skin prickled, like electricity hummed in the air between us.

Finally, I gave in. I looked up.

And just like that, our eyes collided.

It was like standing too close to a fire. Dangerous. Hypnotic. I should’ve looked away immediately. But I didn’t. Couldn’t. Something about the way his mouth curved, like he was holding back a smile meant just for me, pinned me in place.

“Mia?”

The voice startled me so badly I nearly spilled my latte. My best friend, Clara, dropped her bag onto the chair across from me, sliding in with a grin that said she’d already noticed him too.

“You okay?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” I lied, forcing a smile.

Clara followed my gaze before I could stop her. “Ohhh,” she whispered, lips curving mischievously. “That explains it. He’s gorgeous.”

“Shh!” I hissed, nearly kicking her under the table.

But it was too late. He’d noticed Clara noticing him. And then—like it was the most natural thing in the world—he stood up.

My pulse thudded. My mouth went dry.

He was walking toward us.

Each step felt deliberate, confident, as if he already knew I wouldn’t run. By the time he reached our table, I was certain everyone in the café could hear my heartbeat.

“Excuse me,” he said, voice smooth and deep. Up close, he was even more devastating—broad shoulders, the faintest shadow of stubble, eyes that sparkled with something dangerous. “This might sound forward, but… do I know you?”

I blinked. “I—uh—no, I don’t think so.”

He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve. “Are you sure? You look familiar.”

Clara kicked me under the table, hard. “She just has one of those faces,” she jumped in, grinning. “Right, Mia?”

I shot her a glare that promised she’d pay for this later. “Right,” I echoed weakly.

But his eyes didn’t leave mine. Not for a second. And in that gaze, I felt it again—the dangerous pull. Like he knew me. Like he wanted to know me more.

“I’m Adrian,” he said finally, offering a hand.

I stared at it for a beat too long before slipping mine into his. Warm. Firm. A little too lingering.

“Mia,” I breathed.

His lips curved. “Nice to meet you, Mia.”

The way he said my name sent shivers down my spine. And in that moment, I knew nothing about this was a coincidence.

Nothing at all.