Avianna's Point of View
The sweet aroma of freshly baked cupcakes lingered in Jules' kitchen, warm and comforting. Trays of golden treats lined the counter, steam still rising faintly from them. Sophie leaned over, carefully spreading swirls of icing on top, while Jules went wild with rainbow sprinkles, her tongue poking out in concentration.
"These look like they were decorated by a five-year-old," Sophie teased, trying not to laugh.
"Excuse me? Mine are art masterpieces!" Jules retorted dramatically, holding one up like it was a crown jewel.
I burst out laughing. "At least they're edible. That's what counts, right?"
We eventually carried the cupcakes into the living room, each of us grabbing a plate. The teasing, of course, didn't stop there.
"So, Avianna…" Jules began, his voice sly, his brows wiggling suggestively.
I groaned. "Oh no, not this again."
"You're hiding something," Sophie accused, smirking. "You looked way too flustered earlier when you mentioned that guy."
My friends were relentless. Their stares pinned me down like interrogation spotlights, and I could feel my cheeks warming. "We just had coffee, okay? That's it."
"Uh-huh." Jules drew out the sound, clearly unconvinced. "Still… I think Caius is the better option. Imagine how cute you two would be together."
I nearly choked on my cupcake. "Caius? No way. He's like family. We're just friends."
Sophie tilted her head knowingly, her smirk widening. "Sometimes the best relationships start with friendship."
I rolled my eyes, forcing the conversation elsewhere, but even as laughter filled the room, a small part of me wondered, why did it bother me so much when they brought up Caius?
---
By the time I left Jules' house, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving streaks of pink and orange in the sky. I hugged them both goodbye and walked away, still smiling from the chaos we'd shared.
But my evening wasn't over.
When I arrived at the nightclub bar where I worked weekends, I headed straight to the back to change into my uniform.
The transformation was instant. My bar uniform was a sharp contrast to the soft, cozy café apron I wore in the mornings. Tonight, I slipped into a fitted black corset top with thin straps that clung to my figure—striking, but still tasteful. A short leather skirt hugged my waist, paired with sheer black tights that shimmered faintly under the neon lights. My ankle boots gave me just the right lift, enough confidence in my stance but practical for long hours behind the counter.
I let my hair down in soft waves, cascading over my shoulders, glowing faintly under the club's violet and red lights. A bold red lipstick painted across my lips was the final touch. Looking in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The "girl next door" had vanished, replaced by someone magnetic, confident, untouchable.
When I stepped out, the pulse of the music wrapped around me. I fell into rhythm effortlessly, mixing cocktails, sliding shots across the counter, exchanging easy banter with regulars. This place, owned by Jared, was safe. No one disrespected me here, and my friends often came to party. Tonight, though, I had no idea how much things would shift.
The crowd thickened as midnight drew closer. Glasses clinked, people shouted over music, and the floor vibrated with bass.
And then—
"Yanna?"
I froze at the sound of his voice.
Turning, I saw Calix standing by the counter, surrounded by a few of his friends. He looked… different. Less approachable, more commanding, like he belonged here in the shadows and neon lights.
"Oh—hi," I said quickly, trying to sound casual. "What are you doing here?"
"Drinking." He smirked faintly, raising his glass. "Small world."
"So… this is your night job?" he asked after a pause.
"Yeah." I laughed lightly, glancing at my outfit. "A little different from being a barista at the café, huh?"
"Not really," he replied smoothly. "You're still serving drinks. Just… a different kind."
Before I could respond, one of his friends called for him, and he gave me a small nod before heading back.
But I couldn't stop my eyes from wandering back to their table throughout the night. His group had a presence, dark, intense, almost intimidating. They didn't blend in with the noisy, careless crowd. No, they looked like they owned the place.
"Mafia gang?" I muttered under my breath with a laugh, shaking the ridiculous thought away.
Still, when I glanced over again, Calix caught me staring. My face burned as I quickly looked down, pretending to wipe the counter. Great. Now he thought I was some creepy bartender staring at him.
A little while later, as the crowd thinned, Calix reappeared at the counter.
"What time do you finish?" he asked casually. "Want me to take you home?"
My heart skipped. "I'll be out in about an hour. But you and your friends will probably leave before then. The bar's closing soon anyway."
He shook his head. "No. I'll wait. I've got my car, and I promise I'm not drunk. You'll get home safe."
That faint smile of his made me soften. I found myself nodding. "Okay."
---
When my shift finally ended, I stepped outside, scanning the lot. The club had emptied, and the night air felt cooler against my flushed skin.
I spotted him standing alone in the parking lot, phone pressed to his ear. His friends were gone.
I started walking toward him, slowing when I noticed the sharp tone of his voice. It was low, firm, almost threatening. His jaw was set, his expression hard, nothing like the calm warmth I'd seen earlier. I couldn't make out the words, but something in me tensed.
And then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. He hung up, slipped his phone in his pocket, and when he turned to me he smiled, soft and easy, like the earlier moment had never happened.
"Sorry about that," he said smoothly.
I forced a small smile back, but a question whispered at the back of my mind.
Who exactly was Calix Hales?
---
The next morning, exhaustion hit me like a wall. Three hours of sleep weren't enough, but my coffee shop shift called.
When I stepped outside my apartment, I was startled to find Caius leaning casually against his car, sunglasses pushed up in his hair.
"You're up early," I said, blinking in surprise.
"Thought I'd give you a ride," he replied easily. "You're working today, right?"
"Yeah. Thanks." I smiled and slipped into the passenger seat.
We drove in comfortable silence at first, the city waking up around us. Then, casually, he asked, "So… where did you go yesterday?"
"Jules' place," I answered quickly. "We baked cupcakes. Then I went to work at the bar."
His eyes flicked to me briefly before returning to the road. "That's it?"
I frowned. "Why do you sound suspicious?"
He shrugged, but his voice was serious. "Just making sure. Be careful who you spend time with, Avi. Not everyone's as nice as they seem."
The way he said it sent a chill down my spine. Was he… talking about Calix? But how could he even know about him?
I forced a laugh, brushing the thought away, but I couldn't shake the unease. The rest of the ride passed in silence.
---
Later at the café, I had barely settled into my shift when Mia nearly squealed beside me.
"Your admirer's back," she whispered, her grin mischievous as she nodded toward the counter.
I followed her gaze and sure enough, Calix was there. Ordering his usual Americano, settling into the corner with his laptop like the café was his personal office.
I pretended not to care, but my heart raced with every glance.
When he finally left, he didn't just walk out. He slipped a folded napkin onto the counter, right by my register.
Curious, I opened it.
Hot latte tomorrow?
My lips parted, caught between a laugh and panic.
---
That night after my whole day shift, I curled up on my couch, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Unknown: Is it a yes or a no?
I couldn't help smiling. Calix.
Me: Hmm. As long as it's my treat this time.
I saved his number under "Calix" with a small grin, and before I could put my phone down, it buzzed again.
Calix: I can pay.
Me: So can I.
Calix: Okay, okay. Your treat.
I laughed quietly to myself, shaking my head. He really thought he could win but not this time.