POV: Valeria Cruz

By the time my shift starts, I'm already tired.

Not the kind of tired sleep fixes.

The kind that settles in your bones and stays there no matter how much you try to shake it off.

School was exactly what I expected.

Whispers. Looks. Phones.

People pretending not to stare while doing exactly that.

I handled it. Of course I did. I always do.

But handling something doesn't mean it didn't cost you.

I tie my apron tighter around my waist and tuck my hair back, checking my reflection quickly in the small mirror behind the counter.

Neutral. Put together. Fine.

That's the version of me people get here.

Not the girl from last night. Not the girl from this morning.

Just-Valeria.

The one who works. The one who keeps moving. My phone sits in my pocket, heavier than it should feel. 

Not because of messages, because of what they meant. Because of the way he asked Not what happened. Not why. Just... checking. 

Like it mattered whether I made it through the day. I stare at my reflection a second longer. Because that part still feels unfamiliar. 

Jason never did that. He didn't check in. Didn't ask how I was doing unless it somehow involved him. And even then-it wasn't really a question. It was control. A way to tell me how I should feel instead of asking how I actually did.

You're fine. Don't make it a big deal. You're overthinking it. I used to believe that. Or at least-I told myself I did.

Because it was easier than admitting something felt off.

But now-now I know the difference. And I don't know what to do with it. Because one person notices you when you're trying not to. That changes things. And I don't have time for things to change. 

"Tables just got hit," my manager calls from the back. 

"I'm on it.” I grab my notepad and step out onto the floor. The restaurant is small. Busy enough to matter. Not busy enough to disappear. Which means--people notice you. Which also means-you don't mess up. I move from table to table, keeping everything smooth. 

Orders. Drinks. Refills. It's automatic.

That's why I like it. There's no space to think. No room for anything else to creep in. Until the door opens.

And everything shifts. Not loud. But enough. I look up:

And my stomach drops.

Nico. Elena. And-Rafe.

With a group of guys behind them. Football players. Of course. Of course this is how it happens. Not one person. All of them. All at once. My worlds don't just cross- they collide.

"Yo, this place actually looks good," Nico says as they walk in. Elena's scanning the room. Then she sees me. And I know. Because her expression shifts slightly.

Recognition. Then- interest. Rare doesn't react right away. Not outwardly. But I feel it. The second his eyes land on me. And stay. 

I look down immediately. Focus on my notepad. Breathe. Because I don't get to feel awkward. Because I don't get to walk away. 

"Valeria?" I look up. Nico's already smiling. Like this just made his day. "Didn't expect to see you here,” he says.

"Yeah," I reply calmly, "I work here." 

That lands across the table. Because they didn't expect that. Because this version of me doesn't match the one they met. Rate is still watching. Not surprised. Not judging. Just.. taking it in. That almost makes it worse. 

"You work here" Nico repeats.

"Yes." No explanation. No apology. 

Elena leans forward slightly. "I like it," she says, "It suits you." 

I glance at her. Because that wasn't fake, That wasn't judgment. That was real. "Thanks"

"You guys sitting," I ask. 

"Yeah," Nico says, "Big table." 

I nod. "Follow me." I lead them to the back. "Drinks?" They answer over each other. 

Normal. Except it's not. Because I can feel it. Rafe's attention. Not heavy. Not uncomfortable. Just there. Consistent. 

"Anything else?” I ask. 

"No, we're good." Nico says. I nod. Turn. Walk away. 

That shift. Because now he sees it. Not just last night. This. This part of my life. The part I don't show. The part that doesn't fit into their world. I grab their drinks. Taking a second longer than I should. 

Because I need to steady myself. Because I don't know how I feel about this. Bring everything back. Set the glasses down. 

Rafe finally speaks. “Long day" Simple. Quiet. But direct.

I met his eves.

"Something like that."'

He nods once. Like he understands more than I said. Of course he does.

"Food will be out soon,'' I say. Then I walk away. Because staying longer would mean thinking too much.

And I can’t afford that. Not here. Not now.

But as I move through the rest of my shift- taking orders, clearing tables, keeping everything together one thing stays in the back of my mind. He saw it. All of it. And somehow. He didn't look at me any differently. 

And that? That's the part I don't know how to handle.