Amelia cleared her throat. Then she opened a conversation with him. After several seconds of unnecessary consideration, she typed:
[Amelia: hi]
She stared at the message. Then she pressed send. The notification appeared.
[Delivered.]
Only then did the full reality of what she had done arrive.
She had just sent "hi" through Snapchat to a man sitting less than four feet away from her. At the same table. Drinking the same coffee. In the same conversation.
A wave of mild mortification swept through her.
’Am I doing too much?’ The thought arrived with startling clarity.
’He’s literally right there. Right there. And I’m messaging him on Snapchat.’
She considered delete it, but she ultimately decides against that. And determined not to expose herself, Amelia maintained a perfectly composed expression.
She turned toward the window. Picked up her coffee.
Was about to take a sip. But with so much in her mind and her heart, she carefully set the cup back down without actually drinking anything.
Across from her, Stan remained blissfully unaware of the crisis unfolding inside her head.
Or at least he appeared to be. Behind the embarrassment, however, another thought had begun quietly assembling itself.
A much more dangerous thought.
For two days since she awakened from coma, emotions had been accumulating inside her. Two days of warmth she couldn’t explain. Two days of having her understanding of people quietly rewritten.
Two days of catching herself staring at a photograph on her phone and smiling for reasons she preferred not to examine too closely.
And now the source of all of it sat directly across from her. Alone, relaxed. Close enough to reach across the table. No reporters. No assistants. No interruptions. No audience.
There might never be a better opportunity to tell him how she felt...
Amelia considered saying it. Not everything. Just enough.
’Stan, there’s something I want you to know.’
Or perhaps,
’I hope this doesn’t make things awkward, but...’
The words formed. Hovered in her mind and waited.
She imagined speaking them aloud. Then she imagined the consequences if she moved too quickly.
Stan had helped her.Saved her, in more ways than one. Refused repayment. Accepted her friendship.
Shown her a kindness so effortless that it somehow felt more meaningful than grand gestures ever could.
None of that meant he was ready for what she felt.
And if she pushed too hard. If she moved too fast. If she made him uncomfortable.
The possibility of him withdrawing from her, even slightly, produced a sharp, cold sensation beneath her ribs.
That feeling alone settled the matter.
’No I shouldn’t do that, Not today.’
She would tell him eventually. When the timing was right. When she understood her own feelings a little better.
When there was less risk of frightening away something she had only just begun to treasure.
But not today.
So Amelia said nothing but held her coffee and quietly enjoyed the simple fact that, for now, she had his number.
And he was still here.
Across the table, Stan’s phone emitted a soft notification. He glanced down.
A new Snapchat message sat at the top of the screen.
[Amelia: hi]
His gaze flicked briefly toward her.
From his angle, just before she turned her phone face-down, he caught the faintest glimpse of the custom name she’d saved for him.
[My Hero ❤️]
He registered it. The corner of his mouth twitched. For once, he decided not to tease her. Instead, he opened the chat and typed a reply.
[Stan: You’re not drinking your coffee. It’s going to go cold.]
He hit send. A second later, Amelia’s phone vibrated against the table.
She picked it up. Read the message.
And immediately felt warmth rush back into her cheeks.
She had, she realized, spent the last ten minutes alternately holding her coffee, setting it down, staring at Stan, thinking about Stan, and contemplating whether confessing her feelings to Stan would be an excellent decision or a catastrophic one.
Very little actual coffee consumption had occurred.
Amelia set the phone down. Picked up the cup. Took a deliberate sip. The coffee was, indeed, slightly cold.
She looked across the table at him smiled and lowered the cup. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For saving my coffee."
"You weren’t drinking it."
"I had other things on my mind."
"Were they more important than coffee?"
Amelia met his eyes. For half a second, neither looked away.
"At the moment?" she said softly. "Yes."
Stan regarded her for a moment, faint suspicion mixing with amusement. Then one eyebrow lifted.
"I didn’t know you could tease."
The warmth returned to Amelia’s cheeks immediately. "Neither did I."
"I’ll have to adjust my assessment of you."
"Oh?"
"I had you categorized as extremely serious."
"I am extremely serious."
"Clearly."
The word carried just enough skepticism to make her laugh. A genuine laugh this time.
Amelia shook her head and took another sip of coffee.
"Perhaps not all the time."
"Good to know."
Something warm settled between them then, not quite flirting, not quite friendship, but no longer entirely either. Neither chose to examine it too closely.
A reluctant smile escaped her.
Unfortunately, that only made him look more amused.
The conversation drifted naturally after that.
The heavier subjects had already been dealt with, leaving only the comfortable, unstructured territory that existed between people who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.
The fruit platter finally received some attention. The omelette arrived.
Stan attacked it with the focused efficiency of a man who had been awake since early morning and had only just remembered that food was necessary for continued operation.
Amelia watched him eat.
She didn’t comment. But every now and then that strange warmth inside her surfaced again, appearing as a small smile she never quite managed to suppress before it escaped.
Time passed easily. Eventually, the check arrived.
Amelia paid it before Stan could stop her. He made a token attempt to intervene.
She ignored him. He allowed her the victory.
A few minutes later, they stepped out into the late-morning sunlight.
Across the street, Emma and the Vanguard detail rose smoothly from their positions and reformed around Amelia at a respectful distance.
Stan noticed a subtle difference immediately that he didn’t notice a while back... The guards watched him differently now.
Back then when he saved Amelia, they had evaluated him as a potential threat.
Now they evaluated him as someone important to their client.
The distinction was slight. But unmistakable.