Noah Riley

The bell above the coffee shop door rang out, cutting through the steady hum of conversation, clinking cups, and the low buzz of early 2000s music drifting from a worn speaker behind the counter.

At a large, slightly overcrowded table near the back, the Westbridge volleyball team had effectively claimed their territory.

Jake Morrison was mid-story, leaning back in his chair with a grin, gesturing wildly with an iced drink in hand. “—and I’m telling you, Coach was this close to losing it. Like, veins popping, full meltdown—”

“That’s because you skipped drills,” Ethan Park cut in dryly, not even looking up from the straw wrapper he was meticulously shredding.

“I didn’t skip them,” Jake shot back. “I strategically avoided them.”

“That’s called skipping,” Marcus “Tank” Delgado rumbled from beside him, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he took a slow sip of his drink.

Tyler Brooks just laughed, kicking his feet up against the leg of the table. “Man, one day he’s actually gonna bench you, and I’m gonna pretend I don’t know you.”

“Please,” Jake scoffed. “He needs me. I’m the backbone of this team.”

“No,” Ethan said flatly. “You’re the reason we do extra conditioning.”

A low chuckle came from the end of the table.

Noah Riley sat slightly apart from the chaos, one elbow resting on the table, his long frame slouched just enough to suggest he was relaxed—but the tension in his shoulders said otherwise. His brown hair was still damp from practice, pushed back carelessly, and his hazel eyes flicked between his teammates as they argued.

He wasn’t saying much.

He didn’t need to.

“Riley,” Jake suddenly said, pointing at him, “back me up here.”

Noah didn’t even look up from the condensation ring he was absently tracing on the table. “No.”

The table erupted.

“Traitor!”

“Unbelievable—”

“Wow, even your boy won’t defend you—”

Jake clutched his chest dramatically. “That’s cold, man. That’s really cold.”

Noah finally glanced up, expression flat. “You’re wrong. Get over it.”

Tyler snorted, and Marcus shook his head, muttering something under his breath about “kids.”

The conversation rolled on, overlapping voices and easy insults filling the space—but Noah’s attention shifted.

Just slightly.

His gaze flicked toward the front of the shop—the door still swaying faintly from where it had just opened.

Someone new.

It wasn’t unusual. This place was always busy. People came and went constantly.

But still… his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary.

Jake noticed first.

“Oh no,” he said, following Noah’s line of sight with exaggerated subtlety. “What is it? You look like you just spotted your next life crisis.”

Noah didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening just a fraction before he leaned back in his chair.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Mm,” Ethan hummed, unconvinced.

Tyler grinned. “That didn’t sound like nothing.”

Marcus glanced over briefly, then back at Noah. “You know them?”

“No.”

The answer was immediate. Too immediate.

Jake’s grin widened. “But you’re looking.”

Noah shot him a look. “Shut up.”

Jake raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying—first week of the semester, new faces, new opportunities—”

“Finish that sentence,” Noah muttered, “and I’m leaving.”

Tyler laughed under his breath. “He’s got a point.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake waved it off, still clearly entertained. “God forbid we acknowledge anything outside of volleyball.”

“That’s not—” Noah stopped himself, exhaling sharply as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Just drop it.”

Ethan finally looked up, glancing between them before following Noah’s earlier line of sight again, more subtly this time.

“…They are new,” he said after a second. “Haven’t seen them around.”

Marcus nodded slightly. “Probably just transferred in.”

Jake leaned forward again, resting his chin on his hand. “Well, now I’m curious.”

“No,” Noah said immediately.

Jake blinked. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“You were going to,” Noah replied flatly.

“…Okay, fair.”

The group fell into a brief lull, the noise of the café filling the space between them. A barista called out an order, someone laughed too loudly near the window, and a chair scraped across the floor.

Noah’s gaze drifted again—unintentional this time.

Or maybe not.

He caught sight of movement near the counter, his expression tightening just slightly, like he was trying to decide something and getting irritated with himself for even considering it.

“Dude,” Tyler murmured, nudging him lightly with his foot under the table. “You’re doing it again.”

Noah looked away immediately. “Doing what.”

“Staring.”

“I’m not staring.”

“You are staring.”

“I’m looking.”

Ethan snorted softly. “That’s worse.”

Jake grinned, sitting up straighter like he’d just been handed entertainment on a silver platter. “Oh, this is good. This is really good.”

Noah’s eyes flicked back to them, annoyance clear now. “Can you all not make this weird?”

Marcus raised a brow. “We’re not the ones making it weird.”

“You’re literally all talking about it.”

“Because you’re making it obvious,” Tyler said.

Noah leaned back again, crossing his arms now, jaw set. “I don’t care.”

“Sure,” Jake said easily. “You don’t care so much that you’ve looked over there like six times in the last minute.”

A pause.

Noah didn’t deny it.

Instead, he glanced toward the counter one more time—brief, controlled—but long enough to be noticed.

Something unreadable flickered across his face. Not quite interest. Not quite irritation.

Something in between.

Then he looked back at the table, pushing his chair back slightly as he stood.

“I’m getting another coffee,” he said.

Jake’s grin turned downright devious. “Oh, now you need another coffee?”

Noah didn’t even dignify that with a response, already turning toward the counter.

Behind him, Tyler let out a quiet laugh. “Man’s not subtle at all.”

Ethan shook his head. “Not even a little.”

Marcus just watched Noah go, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “This should be interesting.”

And at the counter, as Noah stepped up—closer now, within the same space, the same line—

That quiet tension from across the room shifted into something much more immediate.