Page 28 of Black Castle

He definitely doesn’t want to talk about it. And she respects that. There are a lot of things about herself that she doesn’t want to tell another soul too.

He is here now. That’s the most important thing. He didn’t ditch her like she had thought at some point.

“I’m sorry about that,” he finally says, his voice low and deliberate. “I didn’t mean for things to end up that way.”

Before she can respond, a young boy appears at the table, notepad in hand. Waylen, his nametag, reads.

“Good day, sir,” he greets Lucan before turning to Vivienne, flashing her a friendly smile. “Hey, Vivienne.”

Vivienne knows him as well. Waylen Adams. He is a student in Daxton High, probably in a team filled with boys high on testosterones. She isn’t really sure. She has seen him wear a jersey sometimes. But she hardly pays attention to anyone, so she can’t quite confirm what team he belongs to. It can be a football team jersey, lacrosse team jersey, basketball team jersey, or even a merch for a cool club. He is definitely one of the sporty types.

“Hi, Waylen,” she flashes him a warm smile.

Waylen’s smile lingers, but when he turns back to Lucan, it quickly falters. She isn’t the only one intimidated by him, after all.

Lucan has been watching quietly, though. His expression is blank, amusement nonexistent.

“What would you like to have, sir?” Waylen asks him, a little more cautiously.

“Long black,” Lucan replies, curt and stiff.

“I’ll take my usual.” Vivienne leans back in her chair, her fingers drumming idly on the table.

“I figured.” Waylen scribbles down their respective orders in the notepad. “Anything else?” His gray eyes bounce between her and Lucan.

“Do you want any pastries?” Vivienne directs the question at Lucan, whose gaze is locked on his cell phone now, completely shutting the world out.

“Just long black.” He barely looks up.

Vivienne can’t help but notice the slight coldness. He isn’t exactly the cheerful type, but this detachment feels different, all of a sudden.

Shrugging it off, she turns to Waylen. “I’ll take donuts, please.”

“Got it.” Waylen notes it down. “I’ll be right back with that.” He turns and walks away.

She glances back at Lucan and he is typing something rapidly into his phone, messaging someone. She wonders who the person is. Maybe a friend, a family member, or it can be his girlfriend?

A weight presses into her stomach. She has never once wondered if he is in a relationship. Of course, a man with such a captivating aura will definitely have women lining up at his door.

Her thoughts spiral until his voice cuts through them.

“What’s the usual?” he suddenly asks, setting his phone on the table.

“Sorry?”

“What’s your usual?” he rephrases. “The boy seemed to know. I want to know too.”

Her lips curl into a warm smile. He is so cute.

“Mocha,” she answers, still beaming. “Although I do also love other flavors like Frappe and Latte macchiato. But when I come here, I always prefer their mocha because it’s the best.”

“Okay.” He nods gently, as if committing the information to memory. “Mocha, on some occasions, frappe or latte macchiato on other days.”

Warmth spreads in Vivienne’s chest. She feels like leaping across the table and squashing him in a hug.

“Your friend?” He suddenly asks, nodding vaguely at the spot Waylen was standing a couple of minutes ago.

“Who?” Vivienne follows his line of vision, glancing briefly behind her. Waylen is by the counter, conversing animatedly with his coworker.

---