You shut your laptop and rubbed your eyes, oblivious to the man three tables away who had been staring at you since you arrived.

Rafe noticed him immediately.

He’d only stopped at the bookstore café because Sarah needed a last-minute gift — then he saw you, studying alone, headphones on, completely unaware of your surroundings. And completely unaware of the man watching you hungrily.

Rafe pretended to browse the shelves, but every time the guy looked at you, Rafe’s jaw ticked harder.

When the stranger finally stood and started toward your table, Rafe didn’t think — he acted.

He slid into the seat across from you like he’d always been there.

“Hey,” he said casually. “Sorry I’m late.”

You blinked, confused. The creepy guy halted, glare sharp, then turned away.

“…late for what?” you asked.

Rafe grinned, but his eyes were sharp — protective, not playful.

“Late to walk you to your car,” he said. “You’re done studying, right?”

You followed his gaze to the man’s table and froze. Your stomach dropped.

“Oh,” you whispered. “I didn’t… notice.”

“No shit you didn’t,” Rafe muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing at the stranger. Louder, he said, “Yeah, I figured.”

You hurried to pack up your things. Rafe stood and — without asking — took your backpack from your hands and slung it over his shoulder.

Outside, the parking lot was nearly pitch black and deserted. You shivered without realizing it.

Rafe did.

He opened your car door for you and waited until you were sitting before handing back your bag. But he didn’t move away. He braced his arms on the roof of your car, leaning down to your window.

“You come here alone a lot?” he asked.

You nodded.

His jaw clenched.

“Start telling me ahead of time when you’re coming here.”

You frowned in confusion. “Why?”

Rafe stared at you like the answer was obvious — like you were the only person who didn’t get it.

“Because I’m not letting you sit in a dark café by yourself while assholes stare at you,” he said quietly. “If you’re here, I’m here.”

Your heart thumped once, hard.

“You don’t have to do that,” you murmured.

He laughed — a soft, final sound, like he’d already made his decision. “I know I don’t have to,” he said. “I want to.”

You didn’t know what to say — you just sat there, stunned, while he stepped back.

Before you drove off, he tapped the top of the car and leaned closer again.

“Text me when you get home.”

You didn’t even remember giving him your number.

But you texted him anyway.

The next night, when you returned to the bookstore to study, something in you felt different — maybe safer, maybe nervous, maybe both.

And when you walked inside?

Rafe was already there.

Sitting at your table.

Waiting.