ASHER:
I leaned back against the counter, arms folded tightly across my chest. My heart thudded dully behind my ribs as I watched Liam deliver the tray to Malcolm, visibly flustered, posture stiff like he was carrying a bomb instead of a croissant. It was almost painful to watch the confidence drain from him — like water slipping through clenched fingers.
I couldn't look away no matter how hard I wanted to. My pulse was loud in my ears, an annoying drumbeat that didn't match the calm I was trying to fake.
Malcolm looked… effortlessly composed, like someone who owned not just the café, but the entire block. His expression didn't change as Liam approached — he simply watched him, head slightly tilted, like he was reading a particularly puzzling sentence or dissecting him with invisible tools. There was something unnervingly precise about the way he observed people, as though he peeled back layers with nothing more than a glance.
