Deadly Secrets

Chapter 31: Choccachino*

Stupid fucking alarm clock. Stupid me.

Zara jogged across the zebra crossing, her eyes on the pedestrian stoplight. Turned yellow, it was a gamble choosing to cross the road or not. She decided to go for it at the metaphorical flip of a coin and had only barely managed to stumble onto the sidewalk as the light turned red. Zara cursed herself over and over between wheezing breaths; because her alter hadn't set an alarm, she'd woken up at one in the afternoon. The entirety of Saturday was a mystery to her, as well as the activities that had gotten her so exhausted.

Thirty minutes late to her appointment with Max, she wouldn't have been surprised if he had decided to storm out. Zara was already untrustworthy as it was, being a lowlife thief and all, and this would be just another minus sign on her reliability card.

She hurried around a corner—almost bumping into another pedestrian in the process—and ran as fast as she could towards the coffee shop they'd set as their meeting place. The famed green logo hung above the discordance raging below, promising the customers of its coffee shop free wi-fi and a relatively quiet place to recharge their batteries. Truthfully, at three in the afternoon, it wouldn't exactly be 'quiet', but it was better to sit inside with a coffee rather than stand outside in the cold. November had only just made an appearance, but it hadn't done so quietly. It already felt like winter.

Zara pulled her beanie off as she pushed the door open, already feeling a waft of warm air envelope her in an embrace. The place wasn't jam-packed, but each register had a line and almost every seat was occupied. If Maximilian was honestly trying to be discreet, then he'd failed; there wasn't a corner where one could sit out of earshot from everyone else. Then again, I'm half an hour late and I think this is peak-hour.

Tugging at her scarf helped her calm her nerves as she bounced her gaze from table to table, hoping to catch those familiar emerald eyes and sleek, dark hair. Someone gruffly pushed past her, so she stepped away from the entrance and moved to one side, slightly flustered but still on the look-out for her target. When she found him, sitting at a booth at the far end of the shop with his head bent over his phone, her throat tightened. He was there, but she could tell by the way he played with his drink that he was beyond pissed.

As if sensing her staring, he looked up from his phone and stared right at her. A sheepish smile crawled onto her face, and she gave him an awkward wave. Her hand wilted as she neared his table, and the butterflies in her stomach dropped dead. With his long hair let out and his unshaven jawline, he looked even more menacing than he already was.

"You're late," he said simply, throwing daggers at her with his eyes. Zara plopped in the seat across him, banging her arm against the edge of the table.

"I'm really sorry,"—she winced, but her awkward smile didn't falter—"I forgot to set my alarm."

He finished fiddling with his phone and placed it face-down on the table, beside the plate with a half-eaten donut. "You do realise that I'm finding it hard to accept that excuse, considering that I've been waiting for a fucking half hour." His black sweatshirt hugged his upper-body nicely; even the brand name, Guess, teased her.

She chewed the inside of her cheek and looked away, through the window where her mind couldn't conceive dirty thoughts, which were after-after effects of the alcohol. "I don't know what to say—I'm telling you the truth." Zara unzipped her jacket. Keeping her hands busy would prevent her from feeling so embarrassed. He stared at her throughout the whole ordeal. It made her skin crawl, but not with disgust. "So you already got something without me," she said with an awkward chuckle, eyeing his cup. Zara caught a heart and three digits around its bend, right before he grabbed his drink and took a sip.