Enigma

Chapter 2

Judah

He remains true to his word.

I'm taking the order of a kind older woman when the bell above the door sounds out with a tinkling chime and my eyes flicker there to see the very person I've dreaded walking through in his usual confident stride of a walk.

He's dressed formally again.

Today he wears a deep maroon button up, long sleeved with no blazer or suit jacket, and paired with a set of dark black slacks again and a different pair of brown leather dress shoes as opposed to his sleek black ones from yesterday.

"Dear, are you alright? You seem a bit pale." The woman says, sounding genuinely concerned for my well being as she reaches a hand towards my face.

I can't help but flinch.

The reaction is almost immediate even before her hand touches me, the wrinkled pale offender hovering directly beside my cheek where I'd stepped away quickly.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't handle touch very well." I explain quickly in my best attempt at an apologetic tone as I force a polite smile while trying to force down the way my skin crawls at the thought of a stranger's hand on me.

I can't...

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't think, I apologize." She says in an oddly formal tone and I do my best to keep the anxiety overwhelming me at bay.

"It's no problem, ma'am. I'll get your order, a large dark roast with two sugars and three cream?" I recite to confirm, feeling comforting at the thought of being able to repeat words that aren't my own.

"Yes, thank you dear." She thanks me and I swipe her card before leaving to fulfill her order.

He's watching me.

I can feel the unforgettable predatory gaze on my back as I shuffle about, preparing the woman's drink. It worsens my anxiety and I have to tap a rhythm on the counter top with my other hand as I stir together the cream, sugar, and coffee.

"Here you are." I say quietly, not meeting the woman's eyes or Micah's intimidating stare as I set the coffee down in front of her and return to tapping my fingers against the counter top as she thanks me before leaving.

"You're anxious." Micah points out the moment he steps up to the counter and I can't help but tense at his words as it sends another wave of unease coursing through my veins.

"What can I get for you today, sir?" I ask quietly, struggling to keep myself from stuttering as I refuse to attempt eye contact and stare at his shirt collar once again.

The only thing keeping me from running away is my tapping.

"What are you playing?" He asks suddenly and I tense further at his words, the coil tightening inside my chest once again, as unease begins to creep up on me.

How does he know I play the piano?

Most people assume that I'm simply tapping a random rhythm or beat of a modern song, others have mistaken it for morse code. Worse, once I was thought to have Tourette's syndrome by an old professor who'd mistaken it for a tick associated with the disorder.

"W-what can I get for you t-today?" I repeat myself, failing to stifle my stuttering as I continue to play through the piece, well only a portion seeing as I'm using one hand.

"Judah, I believe I asked what you were playing." He says in an oddly stern tone and it makes my heart pound against my ribcage and I'm startled to find that I feel more afraid than nervous now.