Chapter 5
Elena twirled a pen between her fingers, staring blankly at her laptop screen. The words on the page blurred together — she hadn’t written more than a single paragraph in the past hour. Instead, her mind wandered back to Adrian’s hand brushing her cheek, the way his voice had dipped when he promised to keep her safe.
Her phone buzzed.
Marisa: Dinner tonight? You can’t cancel this time.
Elena smiled.
Elena: Wouldn’t dream of it. Where?
That evening, she found Marisa waiting at their favorite Mexican restaurant, tapping her nails against a glass of sangria.
“You’re late,” Marisa said, narrowing her eyes.
“I’m ten minutes late.” Elena slid into the booth. “That barely counts.”
“It counts when I’ve been sitting here imagining you got kidnapped by Mister Mystery.”
Elena laughed. “Adrian’s not—”
“Adrian,” Marisa repeated slowly, as if tasting the name. “So that’s him.”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“And he just…appeared out of nowhere?”
Elena rolled her eyes. “He didn’t appear out of nowhere. He was in a café.”
“Uh-huh. And now what? You’re seeing him every day?”
“Not every day,” Elena said, but her smile gave her away.
Marisa sighed and leaned forward. “Lena, you’ve known him for what — a week?”
“Closer to two.”
“That’s still nothing. You don’t know this guy.”
“I know enough.”
“Do you?” Marisa’s gaze was sharp. “What does he do for a living? Where did he grow up? Who are his friends?”
Elena hesitated.
“See?” Marisa pressed. “You don’t know. You just know he’s good-looking and says the right things.”
Elena picked at her napkin. “So what, I’m not allowed to be happy until I run a background check?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Marisa’s tone softened. “I’m saying I’ve seen you fall hard and fast before. And every time, you end up crushed. I don’t want to watch that happen again.”
Elena looked down. “Adrian’s different.”
“They’re always different, until they’re not.”
Their food arrived — sizzling fajitas, bowls of guacamole — but Elena barely tasted it.
“Marisa,” she said finally. “I know you’re worried. But he makes me feel…like I can breathe again. Like I matter.”
“That’s what scares me,” Marisa whispered.
“Why?”
“Because you’re giving him power. And if he hurts you—”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
Elena’s chest tightened. “Can’t you just be happy for me?”
Marisa reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “I’ll always be happy when you’re happy. I just don’t want to lose you in the process.”
The words stuck with Elena long after dinner ended. She walked home alone, chilly wind nipping at her skin.
Her phone buzzed again. Adrian.
Adrian: Where are you?
Elena: Just leaving dinner with Marisa.
Adrian: Alone?
Elena: Yes. But I’m fine.
Adrian: Text me the second you get inside your apartment.
Elena smiled faintly.
Elena: Yes, boss.
Adrian: Not boss. Protector.
She paused on the sidewalk, staring at his words. A shiver ran down her spine — she couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from something else.
Back in her apartment, she tossed her keys onto the counter and flopped onto the couch. A thought gnawed at her: Marisa’s voice echoing you don’t know this guy.
She replayed her conversations with Adrian. She realized he had a way of turning every question back to her. He knew about her childhood, her heartbreaks, her dreams. But what did she really know about him?
She dialed Marisa.
“Back already?” her friend answered.
“Yeah.”
There was silence. Then Marisa asked, “Are you mad at me?”
“No,” Elena said quickly. “I’m just…thinking.”
“About what I said?”
“Maybe.”
Another pause.
“Lena, I’m not trying to ruin anything,” Marisa said softly. “But sometimes the wrong people wear the right mask. And you don’t see it until it’s too late.”
Elena closed her eyes. “You’ve been watching too many crime shows.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t want you to be the headline next time.”
Elena laughed nervously. “Stop. That’s morbid.”
“I’m serious. Please, just…keep your guard up. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I will,” Elena said, though she wasn’t sure she meant it.
When she hung up, her phone pinged with another message.
Adrian: Did you forget to text me?
Elena smiled despite herself.
Elena: Just got home. Don’t worry.
Adrian: I’ll always worry.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She typed You don’t have to but deleted it. Instead, she wrote:
Elena: Goodnight, Adrian.
Adrian: Sweet dreams, Elena.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Marisa’s warnings and Adrian’s words tangled in her mind, pulling her in opposite directions.
He makes me feel alive.
You don’t know him.
I’ll keep you safe.
Sometimes the wrong people wear the right mask.
She turned off the light, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Sleep didn’t come easily.
The next morning, she woke to find another message waiting.
Adrian: Coffee? My treat. Don’t say no.
Elena groaned, running a hand through her messy hair. Despite everything, her lips curled into a smile.
She texted back:
Elena: Fine. Pick me up in an hour.
As she moved through her apartment, a strange unease lingered beneath her excitement.
Adrian was perfect. Too perfect.
And Marisa’s words had planted a seed.
