AT THE SAME EVENING
ISABELLA
By the time my shift finally ended, my arms felt like overcaffeinated noodles and my brain was fried from trying to dodge his glances without spilling anything. Michael gave me a small, sympathetic smile as I wiped down the counter one last time.
"You survived." He said, handing me a towel.
"I barely survived." I muttered, massaging my temples. "And he's still there, probably plotting world domination through latte foam."
"Just try to avoid eye contact on your way out. He can't follow you off the premises… probably."Michael laughed.
I nodded, clutching my bag like it was a shield. The door opened, and I stepped out into the afternoon sun, inhaling deeply. Fresh air. Freedom. Sort of. Then reality hit, the bus stop was a five-minute walk down a busy street and I had the strong suspicion that a certain billionaire might know exactly where it was. I quickened my pace, careful not to look behind me. But of course… there he was.
Not right in front of me. Not glaring. Not doing anything overt. Just sitting at a café across the street, laptop open, coffee in hand, casually watching. And yes, glance. Right at me. I froze.
"It's just a coincidence. Totally a coincidence." I muttered to myself and I tugged my bag tighter over my shoulder.
The bus stop finally came into view. I planted myself firmly, hoping the bus would appear immediately. Yeah, Michael's 'probably' wasn't comforting. I tapped my foot nervously, scanning the street like a paranoid side character. Each car that drove by felt like it could be a plot device. Each pedestrian could be another trap. And the CEO? He hadn't moved an inch, just watching, typing, glancing. Breathing heavily, I leaned my head against the window and let the city blur past.
"Safe." I whispered. "Finally… safe."
Of course, my luck didn't hold. My hands tightened around my notebook. Okay, Isabella Stone. New plan. Step one: survive until next shift. Step two: avoid billionaire CEO at all costs. Step three: maybe start learning how to make coffee without dying inside. I knew my life had officially become the kind of story I could never have written and it was only Monday.
A few days later, I was trudging out of the cafe, mentally preparing myself for another eight hour shift of avoiding eye contact with the man who could ruin my life with one glance. Michael waved me off cheerfully as I grabbed my bag and headed to the bus stop. The street was noisy, alive, and completely ordinary except for one problem that it wasn't. Because as I turned the corner, there he was. Standing there, hair perfect, laptop bag casually slung over one shoulder, looking at me and watching me. I nearly squealed like a cartoon.
"Nope. Nope. Nope." I muttered under my breath.
My hand tightened around my bag strap like it was a lifeline. I tried to look casual awkwardly casual, the kind of casual that screams I do not belong in this universe, billionaire stalker alert! He smiled, that slow, infuriatingly composed smile. The one that made my knees weak, my heart race, and my side character instincts scream in terror.
"Isabella." He said casually, as if we were just meeting for coffee, not as if I had been desperately trying to avoid him for three days.
"Uh hello." I said, waving like a nervous sitcom character. "Totally normal to run into you randomly totally normal."
"Random?"He asked.
"Yes, totally random. I uh usually take a left, sometimes a right. You know, random routes, city streets. Coincidence. Pure coincidence." I muttered.
He didn't answer just smiled and stepped closer.
"Look." I said, backing up. "I'm really trying to catch the bus. You wouldn't want to you know mess that up?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not here to interfere with your transportation."He said.
"Oh, right, not interfering." I said too quickly, tripping over a loose stone. "Totally not interfering at all. I mean, what even is interfering. I-"
He reached out a hand.
"Don't touch me!" I yelped, stepping back, arms flailing.
My bag swung like a wrecking ball, narrowly missing a passing pedestrian. He froze, hands raised in mock surrender.
"I just wanted to offer a ride."He said.
"A ride?!" I repeated, eyes widening. "You mean, like get in a car with the CEO of a multinational company you've never spoken to except once for three seconds when you almost spilled coffee on him?! Sure. Sounds safe."
"I assure you, it's perfectly safe. Comfortable, even."He blinked and answered.
"Comfortable is not the issue here. Alive is the issue!"I raised both hands.
He chuckled a deep, irritatingly charming sound that made nearby pigeons look concerned.
"You are dramatic. I like that."He said.
"Dramatic? Me? No! You don't even know-" I stopped. Could I say 'I'm a side character trying to survive my own story'? Maybe that would help? Probably not.
"Just get in the car." He said smoothly, producing keys from thin air like a magician.
"Oh, sure. Because this is normal! Strangers offer rides. Especially strangers with expensive suits and the ability to ruin your life with one smirk."He said.
'I am not a stranger, Isabella."He shook his head.
"You are definitely a stranger."I blinked.
"I think you will change your mind."He raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow.
"Oh, yes. Because getting kidnapped by a billionaire CEO is totally on my checklist for today. Right after surviving my side character coffee shift and avoiding eye contact for three days."I snorted.
"You're lucky I am offering. Most CEOs wouldn't wait for three days."He smiled again.I flailed my hands like a startled bird.
"I'm not lucky! I am panicking! There is a huge difference! Also, pedestrians are staring at me, probably judging me, this is humiliating, and why do you keep smiling like that?!"I asked.
"I like seeing you flustered."He tilted his head, calm as ever.
"I'm going to die."I froze mid-step.
"Probably not today." He said smoothly, opening the car door for me. "Hop in. I promise coffee won't spill."
I stared at the open door. My brain screamed, my side character instincts screamed. My heart screamed. Then, muttering something about public safety laws, personal dignity, and avoiding billionaires at all costs, I climbed in and immediately realized… I had no escape plan.
"So… where to, Isabella?"He asked.
"Anywhere but my doom." I muttered under my breath as I gripped my bag like it could save me.
I sat stiffly in the passenger seat, clutching my bag like a flotation device, as the CEO started the engine. The car smelled like leather, new money, and… power? Too intimidating. My notebook poked me in the side like it was judging me for ever being born into this plot.
"So…" He said, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift. "How was your shift?"
I blinked.
"Shift? Oh, uh… fine. Coffee. Survived. Barely."I said.
"Barely?"He glanced at me, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes! Barely! Survival rate, maybe forty percent!" I gesticulated wildly, nearly knocking over my notebook. He caught it before it slid to the floor.
"Forty percent?" He repeated, amused. "We need to work on that."
"Work on my survival rate? You mean train me?"I froze.
"No. I mean I like watching you. It's… entertaining."He smirked.
"Entertaining? I am not your entertainment. I am a side character. You are a CEO. This is… illegal in so many ways."I stared at him.
"Do you always get flustered this easily?"He ignored me.
"Yes! Obviously! Wouldn't you be flustered if oh my god you are smiling, STOP SMILING LIKE THAT!" I shouted, clutching my bag to my chest.
He chuckled, calm as if the world had stopped spinning just for him to laugh at me.
"I can't help it. You are… cute when you panic."He grinned.
"Cute? PANIC IS NOT CUTE!" I tried to regain composure. "Well, thank you, but actually no, don't thank me. I didn't do anything. I am literally just… sitting. Breathing. Not doing anything important. Definitely not cute. Definitely not…"
He tilted his head, clearly enjoying the mental meltdown.
"Are you always this dramatic in real life, Isabella?"He asked.
"I maybe." I stammered. "I write coffee novels for a living. Drama comes naturally."
He laughed low, dangerous, way too charming.
"I like writers."He grinned.
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. You have no idea my dear CEO.
"I need to rethink every life choice that led me to this exact moment."I sighed.
Then he leaned slightly closer, calm, unthreatening yet somehow utterly terrifying.
"Do you usually panic this much around strangers?"He asked.
"I'm… okay. Totally okay."I said.
We drove in tense silence for a few minutes. My brain tried to make a map of escape routes, alternate bus stops, emergency contacts… and basically failed spectacularly. Then, of course, he broke the silence.
"Next time, I might just follow you to the cafe. Or your bus. Or your apartment."He said.
"Next time? Are you, seriously following me?"I nearly choked on my own thoughts.
"If I wanted to, but I am trying to be considerate."He shrugged, perfectly casual.
"Considerate? Following someone is not considerate! It's terrifying!"I said angrily.
"Terrifying can be fun."He smiled faintly.
I almost slammed the notebook onto the dashboard, but decided it might explode if I did.
"Fun? For who?"I asked.
He just kept driving, calm, confident, his expression carefully neutral.
"For me."He teased.
I groaned and leaned back in the seat.
"Side characters don't sign up for this. No one warned me about billionaires in coffee shops."I frowned.
He chuckled again, quiet, like a secret amusement.
"Well, now you are part of the story."He said clearly, not caring that I was not from this world.
Honestly, I was not sure what he was thinking about in the first place. The car stopped. He reached for the door.
"I live here. Stop!" I screamed, scrambling out before it was fully open. "Thank you for the ride!"
Ibolted up the walkway, yanked the door open, and slammed it behind me like it could keep him out, before running to my apartment. I was safe. Definitely safe. Totally fine. No billionaire could get me now. From the street, I could just make out the car engine idling. His smile was faint but unmistakable. I groaned. Side character life. Peak survival mode. And I'm already failing. How could I just tell him that I side character? He probably thinks I am nuts, even tho it seems that he is too crazy to care himself.