Maylin's POV

I tie my apron tighter around my waist, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that has been nagging me all day. The familiar sounds of the restaurant— clattering dishes, the low hum of voices and the hiss of the espresso machine— usually calm me, giving me something to focus on. But today, it's not enough. My thoughts kept drifting back, and I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Matéo.

I barely knew him, but now he's staying in my apartment. I let a stranger under my roof. The thought makes me fidget with the hem of my apron as I move towards the front of the restaurant. I shouldn't have let him in, but Silvia saved me when I had nowhere else to go. I owe her everything, so how could I turn her son away?

Still, I don't know what to think of him. There is something about the way he carries himself that makes me nervous. He's quiet but intense, his eyes always scanning the room, like he's waiting for something bad to happen. And maybe he is.

The first moment when Matéo walked into the apartment, I'd been so terrified I could barely speak. But now? I don't know. He's nothing like I expected, harsh or angry, just... lost. He keeps to himself but I can tell there is something brewing under the surface. Something deep. It makes me anxious. He seems... safe, but I've been wrong before. What if he snaps one day? What if—

"Hey, Maylin!" Stevie's voice cuts through my spiral of thoughts. I look up, startled to see her grinning at me from the kitchen doorway.

"You okay, honey? You've been a little out of it today," she says, her eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie, wiping my hands on my apron. "Just... tired."

Stevie gives me that look. That older-sister, no nonsense look that makes my stomach twist. She's always able to see through me, and I hate how vulnerable I felt under her gaze. She's 9 years older, wiser, and though she has been nothing but kind, I've always been scared she'll dig too deep and find something I don't want her to see. We met here at work through Silvia and she knows bits and pieces of what happened to me, but not the whole story. I can't let anyone know the whole story.

Stevie hesitates for a moment, then sighs. "Alright, If you say so," She finally concedes, though the doubt is clear in her voice. She hands me a rag and gestures towards a table near the entrance. "Can you clean up that table? I've got to finish up in the back."

"Sure," I mumble, grateful for the distraction.

I shake the thoughts from earlier aside and wipe the table. Focus, I tell myself. I'm at work. I'm safe here.

I turn around to head to the next table when I collide with something— no, someone. A hard chest, a wall of muscle. I look up, startled, and my breath catches in my throat. 

It's Matéo.

He stands in front of me, his hands hovering in the air as if ready to catch me, his expression equally startled. My heart skips a beat, and neither of us moves. We're standing so close I can smell his cologne— something clean, manly, almost intoxicating. My head spins.

"Sorry, you okay?" He his voice pulls me out of my trance and I realize I've been staring. I nod, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

Why was he here? Part of me wants to run, but my feet are glued to the ground. The tension between us is thick, suffocating.

Before I can find my voice, Stevie appears behind me, completely oblivious. "Maylin, what are you—" she stops short when she sees Matéo. Her eyes widening with surprise before lighting up with recognition.

"Matéo? Is that really you?" She exclaims, rushing forward to hug him.

I watch, feeling like an outsider in my own space. Of course they know each other. I should've known. Silvia worked here for years, so it makes sense that Matéo is familiar with the staff. But watching them together, it suddenly feels like he belongs here more than I do.

Stevie pulls back from the hug, beaming at Matéo. "Look at you! You've grown up— still got that tough look though," she teases with a wink, making him chuckle. "When did you get out?"

"Yesterday," Matéo says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's... good to be back."

Stevie glances between the two of us, then smirks. "Oh, this is perfect! Matéo, this is Maylin— she's been working here for a while now. You two will get along great!"

Matéo glances at me, and our eyes lock. His gaze is intense and unreadable, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I feel exposed, like he can see past the walls I've carefully built, but I try to keep my expression neutral.

"We've met." Matéo says, his voice low.

Stevie blinks in surprise. "Really? Small world, huh?"

I force a smile, but my stomach churns with unease. I don't know how to feel about any of this. Matéo being here, in my aparment, at work, in my space— it felt unsettling, but at the same time, there is a strange relief in seeing him. As if maybe here, I can stop being so afraid of him.

Matéo clears his throat, shifting awkwardly. "I came here to ask about my mom, actually. I was hoping someone might know where she is."

Stevie's smile falters, her eyes softening with sympathy. "Oh, Matéo... I haven't heard from Silvia since she left. She didn't say much before she went, but I think she mentioned something about a restaurant called 'Raíces'. I'm not sure."

"Raíces?" Matéo frowns, confusion flickering across his face.

"Yeah, I remember looking it up once. It's in Miami," Stevie continues, pulling out her phone to double-check. "And that's far, Matéo. Maybe we can book you a plane ticket—"

"I can't fly," Matéo interrupts, his voice sharper than expected. He catches himself and softens his tone. "I, uhm... I don't have any valid passport or ID right now. I'd have to drive."

A visible disappointment crosses his face, his shoulders slumping. That's at least an 18-hour drive. I don't know what happened between Matéo and his mother, but whatever it is, it weighs heavily on him.

I can tell his mind is somewhere else, spiraling. I felt a strange tug in my chest— an urge to do something, to say something. He looks so lost. I know that look all too well. It's the same look I had when I first ran away, not knowing if I'd ever find a way forward.

I clear my throat. "Uhm... are you hungry, Matéo? Maybe you could eat here and wait for me?" I suggest, my voice quieter than usual. "My shift ends in an hour. We could head home together."

The offer surprises even me. I don't know why I said it. Maybe I just didn't want him to leave looking so defeated.

"Yeah, okay. That sounds good," he replies, giving me a small smile.

Stevie grins, sensing something she's not saying aloud. "I'll bring you your favorite, just have a seat" she teases before disappearing into the kitchen.

For the rest of my shift, I constantly find myself stealing glances at him, and more than once, I catch him already looking at me. Everytime, my stomach does this weird flip, and I curse myself for putting him in my line of sight.

When my shift finally ends, I approach Matéo's table. He's sitting there, lost in thought as he stares out of the window. His expression is hard to read, it's like he's somewhere far away. I almost hesitate before speaking.

"Hey," I say softly, and he glances up at me. "Ready to go home?"

He nods, and we step outside into the cool evening air. We walk over to my pickup truck— an old, beat-up thing that I grew to love over time. I silently prayed to myself that it'll start without making a fuss like it always did. I turn the key, and to my relief, the engine sputters to life.

The drive back to the apartment is quiet. Once we pull into the parking lot, I turn off the engine, and we both sit in silence for a moment. Neither of us moves. I steal a glance at him, unsure of what to say, unsure if I should even speak at all. There is something about the way he stares straight ahead— something distant, like his mind is a thousand miles away.

"You okay?" I ask, my voice quieter than intended.

Matéo turns his head slightly, but he doesn't answer right away. He takes a deep breath, as if weighing his response. "Yeah. I just... have a lot to think about," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

I nod, understanding more than I want to admit. But as I step out of the truck, my feet feel heavier than usual. I try to shake it off as I follow him towards the apartment, but the unease lingers.

"Thanks for today," he says quietly once we're inside, and I don't know what he's thanking me for this time. It feels like everytime he opens his mouth, it's to express his gratitude. And it's kind of cute. Wait, what?

I offer a weak smile, not trusting myself to say too much. "No problem." I try not to fidget as I stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

Matéo moves towards the couch, his posture tense. He sits down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I think I'm gonna head to Miami tonight."

My heart sinks, and I'm hit with this wave of panic. He's leaving? Why does that make me feel... empty? I should be happy. Relieved.

"Oh," Is all I manage say as I try to find the right words. "Well, that's... great." I force a smile, though it probably looks unconvincing. My fingers curl into my palm as I try to push down the strange disappointment clawing at my chest.

He nods, "Yeah... I don't have much keeping me here, maybe I can start a new life in Miami... I don't know. I think getting away— starting fresh— might be good for me."

His words hang in the air, echoing my own thoughts from months ago. Running. Escaping. Searching for something better, even though you're not sure if it exists.

The idea of being alone again, with nothing but my thoughts for company, makes my chest tighten.

Matéo stands, clearing his throat. "I'm gonna... uhm, get ready then." He quietly said and retreated in his room.

The apartment suddenly felt smaller, like the walls were creeping in with each passing minute, like I can't breathe. I was going to be all by myself again very soon, and I didn't like that thought. Even though I didn't trust Matéo much, it was still comforting to have someone here with me. For the last two days, he was all I had in a way.

Air. I need air. I step over to the window and push it open, the cool breeze brushing my skin. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside my chest.

But when I open my eyes, something catches my attention. My heart stutters in my chest as I peer down at the street.

There, just across the lot, a group of men in suits are lingering around the apartment complex. My blood runs cold. They're not just lingering. They're looking for something— no, someone.

Then I see him, leaning on his car, his eyes scanning the area. He looks exactly the same—cold, calculating, dangerous. My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear anything over the sound of it. How did he find me? Panic floods my body, paralyzing me in place.

It was him. He was here to get me.

Noah.

***********

Shit is about to get real from now on girlssss, anyone want popcorn? 🍿🤭