Monday came like a wave Teresa wasn't ready to face. As she walked into the restaurant, the morning bustle felt louder than usual, the clattering of pans and chatter of coworkers ringing in her ears. Her chest tightened as her eyes briefly caught sight of Andrea by the counter, sleeves rolled up, his usual scowl softened by the early light.
She looked away immediately.
She couldn't do this.
Not after Saturday.
Not after the kiss.
She hurried past him without a word, clutching her tray tightly to her chest like it could shield her from the memory of his hands on her waist, the heat of his mouth on hers, the way her body had responded so naturally to his touch.
What scared her the most… was that she kissed him back.
She hadn't meant to. It just… happened. Like the world had fallen silent, and all that existed in that moment was him and her. His lips had been so soft, his touch unexpectedly gentle, and now, two days later, she was too embarrassed to even look at him.
She busied herself all morning—taking orders, wiping tables, keeping her distance. Each time she spotted him from across the restaurant, her heart jumped, and she ducked behind a coworker or slipped into the back.
Andrea noticed.
Oh, he noticed everything.
How she wouldn't meet his eyes. How she suddenly found every reason to be somewhere else when he walked into the room. How her laugh, once light and careless, had turned nervous whenever he was near.
He was losing his mind.
He'd barely slept since Saturday. His mouth still remembered the taste of her lips. The memory of how she trembled in his arms—how soft she felt, how right it had been to hold her. And yet now she was avoiding him like he was a plague.
He waited, giving her space, telling himself maybe she just needed time. But by midday, his patience wore thin.
She was shelving clean plates in the back kitchen when he came around the corner, blocking her path.
"Hey," he said simply.
Teresa froze, her heart thudding.
"I need to talk to you," Andrea continued, his voice low, almost pleading.
"I—I'm busy," she said quickly, brushing past him.
He let her go—but only for a while.
By late afternoon, Teresa had run out of places to hide. She went into the storage room to grab a pack of napkins, unaware that he had followed her. As she turned, arms full, she almost bumped right into him.
Andrea closed the door behind them.
Teresa backed up slowly, her back brushing against the shelves. "W-what are you doing?"
"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, his tone calm but intense.
"I'm not—"
"Yes, you are." He took a step closer. "You've barely looked at me all day. You keep running away like I did something wrong."
Her lips parted but no words came. What could she say? That she couldn't face him because she'd liked it? Because the kiss haunted her in the best and worst ways?
"I know what happened between us caught you off guard," Andrea said gently. "But I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."
Teresa's eyes lifted to his. The air between them thickened. His voice had dropped to a whisper, and the closeness of their bodies was unmistakable. She could feel the heat of him, smell the faint scent of his cologne.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice trembling. "I didn't mean to… I mean—I've never…"
She trailed off.
Andrea's brows knit together. "You've never kissed anyone before?"
She gave the faintest nod.
He took a slow breath. "You kissed me back."
"I didn't mean to," she whispered again, avoiding his gaze.
"I'm glad you did."
That did it. Her eyes flew up to meet his.
And in that suspended moment, he reached for her—gently, slowly, giving her time to stop him.
She didn't.
His hand cradled her cheek. Their bodies were inches apart. The tension between them trembled on the edge of something dangerous and beautiful.
He leaned in.
And this time, when their lips touched, it was soft. So soft it made her heart ache.
His hands stayed light—barely there—as if he was afraid to break her. Her lips parted just enough to invite him in, and the kiss deepened slowly. Her hands, unsure at first, rose to his chest, then to his shoulders. Her fingers curled into his shirt.
Her breath hitched as his hand slid to her waist, drawing her closer.
Her heart was racing. Her mind was gone.
He tasted like warmth and longing. Each kiss was unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. She didn't want to stop—but she also didn't know how to keep going. This was unfamiliar, overwhelming.
She felt herself sinking into him, their bodies pressed close. His fingers brushed her back, then her hair, as though memorizing every piece of her.
Teresa broke the kiss first, breathless, trembling.
"I-I should go," she murmured, trying not to look at him.
Andrea didn't stop her. He just cupped her face again and pressed a small kiss to her forehead.
"Don't avoid me again," he said softly. "Because if you do… I might kiss you in front of everyone."
Teresa flushed bright red.
"I—I have to go," she said again, flustered, and turned away quickly, grabbing the pack of napkins she came for.
Andrea watched her go, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.
She was shy, yes.
But she wanted him.
And that… that was enough for now.
The storage room door clicked shut behind her, but Teresa didn't move at first. She just stood there, her back against the wall, heart thumping wildly as if it had been unchained from her chest. Her fingers lifted slightly, brushing her lips as though she could still feel the weight of his kiss slow, deliberate, and so terribly soft.
Her skin was still warm from the way his hands had held her, not with hunger or impatience, but with an aching restraint, like he was afraid she might disappear if he squeezed too tightly. She couldn't explain it, but in those few quiet moments, she'd felt something shift. Something dangerous. Something beautiful.
She let out a shaky breath and straightened her apron, forcing herself to walk out and back into the restaurant, past the chatter of customers and the warm scent of grilled meats and melted cheese.
Jane was wiping down a table near the back and gave her a subtle, curious look. "You okay?" she mouthed silently.
Teresa gave a tight nod, trying to compose her face. She didn't even have the strength to form a full smile. Tracy, at the bar, narrowed her eyes as Teresa passed, like she knew something had just happened—but thankfully didn't ask. And Priya? She was busy with a family of four near the entrance, blissfully unaware of the turmoil brewing in her friend's chest.
But Andrea, he saw everything.
He stood by the register, arms crossed, his gaze heavy on her like the weight of a thunderstorm right before it broke. When their eyes met for a fleeting second, a current rushed between them like lightning, hot and sharp and impossible to ignore.
Teresa quickly looked away and focused on serving a new table, her hands trembling slightly as she jotted down the order. She had to get it together. She had work to do. She had tips to earn. She couldn't be daydreaming about kisses—not while Andrea was watching her with that maddening intensity, like he wanted to drag her right back into that storage room and finish what they started.
But as the day wore on, it only got harder.
He kept watching her.
Not in the way he used to with distaste or judgment but with something deeper. A desire he could barely hide anymore. When she bent slightly to hand a customer their check, his eyes followed the curve of her back. When she laughed softly at something a child said, he tilted his head, a crooked smile forming like he was seeing her in color for the first time.
And she noticed. Every time.
Even when she wasn't looking at him, she felt him.
But what made it worse—so much worse—was how much she wanted him to look.
It scared her.
She wasn't used to wanting someone like this.
By midafternoon, Teresa found herself retreating to the staff bathroom just to breathe. She stared at her reflection, cheeks flushed, lips still a little pink, and whispered, "What are you doing?"
There was no answer, only the echo of his voice from earlier, low and teasing: "Don't avoid me again… or I might not be able to stop myself from kissing you in front of everyone."
She pressed her hands to her cheeks and groaned softly.
When she came back out, she tried to shake it off, to bury herself in work again.
But then he walked in—the same boy from Chapter Two. The one who had flirted with her. The one with the cocky grin and the Brooklyn swagger.
"Hey, sunshine," he said, sliding into a booth with a wink. "Still the prettiest face in this place, I see."
Teresa blinked. "Oh—hi," she said awkwardly, glancing around.
Andrea was still at the counter.
Watching.
Her stomach flipped.
"Hello Tessa" the boy asked, leaning forward on the table, eyes dancing.
She hesitated, then walked over slowly. "What would you like?"
"Your number" he grinned.
Teresa laughed nervously and scribbled down his actual food order instead.
Across the restaurant, Andrea's jaw was tight. He hadn't moved in minutes, and his glare was burning holes into the back of the boy's head. When Teresa bent over to serve the plate, the boy whispered something that made her laugh again.
That was it.
Andrea slammed the register drawer closed, muttered something to the cashier, and disappeared into the back. Teresa didn't notice until she turned and saw the space where he had been—empty.
For the rest of her shift, she felt unbalanced. Like something was off-kilter. Andrea didn't come near her again, but his absence was louder than his presence. It left her restless.
By the time the restaurant started to quiet down that evening, the storm outside had rolled in—distant thunder rumbling against the windows. Teresa stepped outside briefly to take out the trash, breathing in the damp, electric air.
The back door creaked behind her, and she turned sharply.
Andrea.
He didn't say anything. Just stood there in the shadows, eyes on her face.
Her breath caught. "You've been avoiding me now," she said softly.
He took a slow step forward. "Because I almost kissed you in front of everyone."
The silence buzzed between them.
She looked away. "I… I didn't mean to make things weird."
He closed the distance. "You didn't," he murmured. "You made things impossible."
Her eyes widened, but she didn't move as he reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he said, his voice hoarse. "About the way you look at me. The way you taste."
She bit her bottom lip, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. He inched forward—just enough for her to feel his breath.
"But I meant it, Teresa," he whispered. "Don't run from me again. Because next time, I won't stop."
Her heart slammed in her chest. She nodded slowly.
Then she turned and walked back inside, her knees barely steady beneath her.
**********
The rain fell harder now, like the sky was angry.
Andrea remained outside, his shirt clinging to his skin, soaked to the bone. His mind was spinning, heart racing from the kiss he just shared with Teresa in the storage room. It was soft. It was tender. It was… too much. He needed air. He needed to think.
That's when Becca showed up.
She stepped out of a sleek black car and dashed under the awning of the restaurant, her curls slightly damp, her fitted crop jacket hugging her body. Her eyes landed on Andrea like heat-seeking missiles.
"There you are," she said with a sly smile. "Been dodging me, huh?"
Andrea exhaled, suddenly tense. "Becca, not now."
"Why not now?" she purred, stepping closer. "You've been ignoring me for days. No calls. No texts. No explanations. Is it because of that waitress girl you mentioned that day? Teresa?"
Andrea's jaw tightened.
Becca smirked. "I knew it. You said she was annoying, but your voice said something else. Tell me—did she finally give in to those brooding stares you always do?"
He stayed quiet, trying to look anywhere but at her. Becca stepped even closer, closing the gap between them.
"You and I," she whispered, "we were always good together. Don't pretend you've forgotten what it feels like to feel my body. It's been too long. I've missed you."
She placed her hand on his chest, dragging it slowly down his soaked shirt, and he didn't stop her.
"Don't you want me, Andrea?" Her breath ghosted over his skin as she leaned in, her lips brushing his. "Don't you want to fuck me?" She whispered in his ears
He shouldn't.
He knew he shouldn't.
But something inside him was still raw. Still hungry for sex. Still messed up from his addiction of sleeping with her before he met Tessa and Becca knew exactly which buttons to press. Her lips found his, and he didn't resist.
Not at first.
The kiss was hot, heavy, and filled with unspoken lust. His hands gripped her waist, then traveled up to her breast. She moaned softly against his mouth, pressing closer, her body flush against his has he squeezed her ass.
That's when a voice pierced the sound of the rain.
"Andrea?"