I remember my mom constantly yelling at me not to go out in the rain. "You'll get sick!" she'd say, again and again. But I never listened.
There was something too addictive about it, the scent of wet earth. That beautiful aroma when rainwater hits the ground, when the whole world smells brand new. I'd once asked her why something so natural could smell more heavenly than the most expensive perfumes.
I never knew what it was called back then. The whole process was a mystery to me, unnamed, unexplained, but still utterly beautiful.
And right now, even though it wasn't raining outside, that same scent wrapped around me like a memory.
He smelled like petrichor.
The man in front of me stood impossibly still, his gaze locked on mine. Those stormy grey eyes with flecks of gold pulled me in, like lightning dancing in the middle of a thundercloud. The more I stared, the more those golden flecks seemed to darken, swallowing the grey until it was all heat and storm.
Was I imagining it?
My brows furrowed slightly just as someone coughed. I blinked and turned toward the sound. Scarlett, of course. She was giving me a very obvious what the hell is going on look.
I cleared my throat and turned back toward the men toward him. His eyes were back to normal, soft grey with barely a shimmer of gold. Had I imagined the whole thing?
Shaking my head, I forced a polite smile onto my face. I never got nervous around customers, but this man... he rattled something inside me.
"Right this way," I said, motioning to the only booth that could fit them all. The Demogorgon.
Watching five bulky men try to squeeze into a themed booth was definitely a sight. Like Marvel superheroes on a lunch break. They eventually settled in, and just as I approached with my notepad, I noticed him, the grey-eyed one, glancing at me again.
"What would you gentlemen like to order?" I asked, my voice a little more steady this time.
At that, his expression changed.
His lips parted slightly, and his eyes locked on mine like I'd just offered him something far more precious than a menu. Like I was water, and he'd been crawling through a desert.
Everyone gave me their orders, except him.
He just kept staring.
Clearing my throat, I looked at him directly. "And you? What will you have?"
Silence stretched between us. Then he finally spoke.
"What is your name?"
My knees went weak.
His voice was deep, smooth, warm, like whiskey laced with thunder. It wrapped around me, slow and deliberate. Something in me cracked open.
I blinked, gathering my senses. "Mira."
He tested my name on his tongue. "Mira," he repeated.
And just like that, I felt a spark run through my veins. As if hearing him say my name was the most sacred thing to ever happen to me. He saw it too, the way my expression shifted. A smirk touched his lips, so subtle. It made me question whether it even happened.
Then, finally, he gave his order. I jotted it down with shaking hands and hurried back to the counter.
---
Ten minutes passed. I could feel their eyes on me. Or maybe just his. The men were murmuring among themselves, glancing in my direction too often to be casual.
I busied myself with small tasks, taking deep breaths, grounding myself. When the food was ready, I grabbed the trays and approached their table. The second I reached them, the conversation died.
I carefully placed the plates in front of each of them, avoiding his eyes completely.
---------
By now, the college group had left, and Josh was finishing up his shift. The evening chef hadn't arrived yet, so Josh stayed a little longer to help out.
I glanced over at the table. The men were done eating. As I moved to collect their dishes, Josh walked over, wrapping one arm around me in a side hug, like he always did when his shift ended.
It was innocent. Familiar. Normal.
Until I heard a low, deep growl.
Josh flinched.
I looked up sharply.
The grey-eyed man was glaring at Josh like he was seconds away from tearing him apart. His entire body was tense. Controlled rage. And yet... terrifyingly calm. The kind of calm right before the storm.
He stood, slowly, and took a step toward us, his focus never leaving Josh.
Predator. That was the only word I could think of.
A predator circling something that dared touch what was his.
Hope you like it! Tell me in the comments section if you want to change Josh's name.😅