Chapter 3: Coffee Shop Confrontation
The coffee shop air was thick with the smell of burnt beans and cinnamon. Cadence traced the rim of her chipped mug, following the hairline crack with her fingertip. “...and the whole idea of timshel isn’t about destiny, it’s about the fight,” she said, her voice just audible over the milk steamer’s scream. “The constant choice to be better than your own…”
Her phone, face-up on the sticky wooden table, lit up with a soft glow. A new Snapchat notification splashed across the screen.
Ryli 🐺
A single, unopened chat.
Cadence’s sentence died. Her breath snagged. Annie and Auddy, leaning in from the worn velvet couch, didn’t notice at first. But Hunt, perched on a rickety stool beside her, saw it all. He saw the way her eyes flicked down, the slight flush that rose from her collarbone to her cheeks, the unconscious way her thumb twitched towards the device.
He leaned over, his sharp eyes scanning the name. “No,” he said, the word flat and final.
Annie blinked. “What?” Auddy followed Hunt’s gaze to the phone.
“Ryli?” Hunt’s voice was a low, disbelieving rasp. He set his own latte down with a hard clack. “As in, the Ryli? The human tornado with the black Charger? The one who hooked up with Bryce at the homecoming after-party while literally everyone watched?”
“Hunt,” Cadence whispered, a plea. She flipped the phone over. The thump of plastic on wood sounded like a gunshot in their little corner.
“‘Hunt’ nothing, Cade.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, his usually playful expression replaced by something pale and stern. “You know her reputation. She’s not… she’s not a ‘gentle soul’ type. She’s a fucking predator. People are daisies in her world, and she mows them down for fun.” He kept his voice down, but each word was clipped and precise. “What could she possibly be messaging you for? Did you drop your innocence somewhere? Is she returning it?”
Annie’s brow furrowed. “I heard she got someone’s little brother to buy her a whole bottle of Jack Daniels and then never showed up to pay him back. The kid got grounded for a month.”
“She keyed Mr. Henderson’s car because he gave her a D,” Auddy added quietly, stirring her tea like she was mixing bad memories.
Cadence felt their words like physical pressure, a cage building around her. The memory of the bench surfaced—the surprisingly soft tone, the shared word timshel, the careful distance Ryli had kept. It didn’t map onto the monster they were describing. “You don’t know her,” she said, the defense sounding feeble even to her.
“And you do?” Hunt’s laugh was short, humorless. “Where did you even… Wait.” His eyes narrowed. “Yesterday. You were late getting home from Laney’s pickup. You said you were at the playground.” Understanding dawned, and with it, pure dread. “Oh, my God. She was there. She approached you.”
It wasn’t a question. Cadence looked down at her hands, the freckles standing out against her pale skin. A confession.
“Cadence.” Hunt’s voice lost its edge, softening into genuine fear. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened.” She met his gaze, finding a sliver of defiance. “She was dropping off her sister’s lunchbox. She saw me reading. She asked about the book. We talked for maybe five minutes. It was… civil. Nice, even.”
“Nice.” Hunt repeated the word as if it were foreign. “Ryli doesn’t do ‘nice.’ She does ‘interesting.’ You’re interesting to her because you’re a shiny new toy she hasn’t broken yet. You’re the polar opposite of her entire existence. That’s not a foundation, Cade. That’s a lab experiment.”
Her phone buzzed again, a persistent hum against the wood. All four of them stared at the inverted rectangle. A second message. Cadence’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird.
“Don’t,” Hunt said, his hand covering hers. It was warm, protective. “Just don’t. Let it lie. For once in your life, be the one who walks away from the grenade instead of picking it up to see if it’s pretty.”
For a long moment, she didn’t move. She saw the raw concern in his eyes, the worry in Annie’s and Auddy’s pinched expressions. They were her shelter. They were right. This was madness. Ryli was a storm cloud, beautiful from a distance, lethal up close.
But then she thought of the empty chat window, that simple ‘hey.’ She thought of Ryli’s awkward posture on the cold bench, the way she’d flicked the leaf from her shoe—a gesture clumsy with an unfamiliar kindness. She thought of the photo of Mittens, sent without pretense. It felt like a glimpse behind the curtain of chaos, a tiny, real thing offered in secret.
She gently slid her hand from under Hunt’s.
“Cade,” he breathed, the word heavy with disappointment.
“I just want to see what she said,” Cadence murmured, more to herself than to them. She flipped the phone. Unlocked it.
The first message was a picture. It was blurry, taken from a moving car, the world outside a smear of streetlights and rain-slicked asphalt. The caption read: quarry was a bust. damp squib central. this is more my speed.
The second message, sent just now, was text.
you said you liked the quiet after everyone’s gone. city’s pretty quiet at 11pm. different kind of quiet tho. louder, somehow.
Cadence stared at the words. They weren’t a demand. They weren’t flirty. They were an observation, strangely poetic. She could almost hear the Charger’s rumble in the background. A different quiet. A louder quiet. It was a feeling she understood, the oppressive silence of being alone in a crowd.
Her friends were silent, watching her face. Hunt’s posture was rigid.
Slowly, her thumbs moved over the screen.
That does sound like a different quiet. I’m still at the coffee shop with everyone.
She hit send. The whoosh sound was accusing in the tight space.
Hunt let out a long, controlled exhale. He didn’t speak. He just watched her, his earlier anger melting into a profound, helpless sadness. He saw the faint, reluctant smile touching her lips as she watched the three pulsing dots appear on her screen.
The reply came fast.
sounds cozy. hunt giving you the ‘talk to strangers and you’ll die’ lecture yet?
Cadence’s eyes flicked up to Hunt’s stony face. A startled laugh, half-guilt, half-amusement, escaped her. She typed.
It’s a spirited defense of my perpetual innocence, yes.
tell him i promise not to corrupt you. much.
Then, another picture. This one was of Ryli’s own hand, resting on the Charger’s steering wheel. No cigarette. Just long, slim fingers, the leather of a fingerless glove, the gleam of a simple silver ring on her middle finger. The dashboard lights painted everything in a soft, greenish glow.
driving. later, cadence.
The conversation was over. Cadence set the phone down, screen dark. The coffee shop noises rushed back in—the clatter, the chatter, the hiss of steam. The silence at their table was now a different entity, strained and fractured.
Annie and Auddy exchanged a loaded glance. Hunt finally picked up his cold latte, took a sip, and made a face. “So,” he said, his voice deliberately light, a forced return to normalcy that hurt more than his anger. “Timshel. The choice to overcome your own nature. Great topic.” He looked directly at Cadence, his eyes crystalline with worry. “Really, really great topic.”