Enigma

Chapter 1

Judah 

It's only been an hour. 

I'm already exhausted and I'm only an hour into my freaking six hour shift for the day, not to mention the classes I have after this. I seriously don't know how I'm supposed to get through this day, especially after a morning rush like that. 

But it's over for now. 

Now that the morning rush of commuters and students taking morning classes have gone off to their own daily duties, the shop has calmed down a bit. I can't help but feel terribly relived as I grab a damp rag and begin wiping down the pick up counter from where an apologetic young woman spilt her drink in the hustle and bustle of things. 

The bell above the door chimes out loudly in the quiet still of the shop. 

I look up from where I'm wiping down the counter to see a rather handsome man, probably only a few years older than me, walk in. He walks with a certain air of confidence, long slack clad legs striding smoothly as he approaches the counter where I'm standing with an overwhelming poise despite his casual stance, hands in the pocket of his dress pants and slightly slouched shoulders covered by a nicer quality cotton dress shirt. 

He's out of place. 

True, we do have our fair share of business men who stop by the shop on their daily commute, all dressed is posh suits and dress shoes. But this is different, this man's clothes seem to move with him as if they're perfectly tailored to him in specific. 

So he's wealthy. 

"Good morning sir, welcome to Morning Blend! What can I get for you?" I ask, forcing my incessant need to profile every stranger I meet to the back of my mind in favor of actually trying to keep my job rather than be fired for neglecting my duties. 

"Good morning, Judah." He says instead of properly ordering, coming to a smooth stop to stand in front of the counter, his eyes flickering to my name tag before back to my face. 

He has an accent. 

It's distinctly European, though I can't pinpoint where with the few words we've exchanged. It slurs his words slightly, mudding his English together and making my name sound strange with the distinct pronunciation. Despite his slight slur on the speech, his words are sharp and pronounced with a certain finality that not many people have in their casual conversations, almost as if he's presenting a research topic or giving a lecture on his area of expertise. 

"What can I get for you today, sir?" I repeat myself, allowing myself to break eye contact to look at the collar of his crisp white button up rather than the intimidating gaze in his deep mocha eyes. 

"What would you suggest?" He questions, his tone almost condescending in a way that I can't quite place. 

I don't particularly like it...

"What are you looking for?" I ask, daring to look at his face once again and an unknown emotion flickers across his handsome features, darkening his eyes considerably before it's gone as quickly as it came. 

He smiles. 

A small, albeit charming, smile tugs at the corner of his mouth without showing his teeth and it brings an almost friendly warmth to his eyes as if he's looking at an old friend rather than a stranger. 

"I'd prefer if you chose it. I trust you, Judah." He says and I feel a strange squirming feeling inside my chest at his words, slightly uncomfortable. 

He trusts me? 

He doesn't know me, how could he possibly trust me? How can you trust a complete stranger? Why does the thought of him trusting me unsettle me so much? Why does it feel so weird to hear him say my name? Why does his mere presence make me feel so uneasy?