She barely heard the footsteps approaching until a shadow fell over her.

Aria looked up — and there he was.

Riven Cross.

He stood awkwardly, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, revealing sharp, serious eyes. For once, he didn’t look like the untouchable superstar.

He just looked... unsure.

"Hey," he said, voice low.

Aria raised an eyebrow, cautious.

"Hey," she replied slowly.

A heavy pause stretched between them.

Riven cleared his throat.

"About... yesterday. And today." He shifted his weight like he hated every second of this.

Aria blinked. Was that... an apology? Coming from him?

He kept talking, rushing now.

"I don’t like people in my space. It's not an excuse, just... I’m not great with—" he waved a hand vaguely, "—new people. Or surprises."

Aria let him fumble through it, secretly amused.

Finally, she sipped her coffee and said, "You know, you could’ve just said 'I'm sorry' and saved yourself all that trouble."

For a second, Riven stared at her, stunned.

And then — to her utter shock — he laughed. A real laugh, low and rough, like he didn’t do it often.

"You’re not like the others here," he said, shaking his head slightly.

"Good," Aria said, standing up, brushing off her skirt. 

Their eyes locked, something unspoken sparking between them.

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them — coffee and pride and the strange electricity of almost liking someone you shouldn’t.

Then Aria smiled — small, knowing — and walked away.

Leaving Riven standing there, realizing he had just lost the upper hand...

And maybe, for once, he didn’t mind.