My Seven Ex's

The next day, I packed Rye’s order myself. I told myself it was just another delivery, snacks wrapped neatly, receipt stapled, nothing personal about it. I handed it to the delivery guy and went back to work, wiping the counter with more force than necessary.

Rye didn’t like that. He showed up an hour later, wearing sunglasses, exuding confidence, standing in the middle of the shop like it was his.

“Why didn’t you deliver it yourself?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

Before I could respond, my boss spoke up from behind me. “We have staff for deliveries, her work is in the shop not road.”

Rye’s smile tightened, just a bit.

“Good to know,” he said, straightening.

He left without another word, and I pretended not to notice how his eyes lingered on me before the door closed.

Two days later, he returned this time, he ordered coffee and stayed, he sat near the window, sipping slowly, watching me work like it was part of his routine now. Every time I looked up, his gaze was already there calm, unreadable, almost amused. It made me nervous in a way I couldn’t explain.

When closing time came, I tied my apron loosely and reached for my bag, and Rye stood up too

“I’ll drive you home he said.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, “i usually walk.”

“It’s late he added

I still prefer walking I replied but he followed me outside anyway.

The city lights reflected off his car, sleek and expensive, definitely not meant for casual rides. He opened the passenger door, and say "get in," looking pitiful

I hesitated, and i don’t know if it was exhaustion, curiosity, or loneliness, but I got in.

He didn’t take me home, instead, he drove to a luxury restaurant downtown, with all glass and warm lighting, the kind of place where waiters spoke softly and menus didn’t show prices.

“I said no,” I reminded him.

He smiled, “you said you didn’t want to be a burden and this isn’t a burden, he said.

Dinner felt unreal, wine I barely touched and food I barely tasted. Rye talked easily, confidently, like someone who was used to being listened to, when the bill came, he slid cash across the table without looking, then he handed me money.

“For you,” he said, “don’t argue.”

I froze, “Rye, I don’t....

“It’s nothing,” he insisted. “girls like to feel taken care of.”

Something about that made my stomach twist, but I took it anyway, and told myself it didn’t mean anything.

Weeks passed, and our friendship grew too fast, calls turned into late-night conversations, and coffee turned into dinners, compliments turned into expectations. Rye was charming, attentive, and overwhelming in the way only someone used to control could be.

One night, he stopped talking mid-sentence and looked straight at me.

“I love you,” he said, “be my girlfriend.”

The words hit like a wave, i didn’t answer him, all my thoughts scattered Elio, the silence, the way love had burned me before, thirty minutes passed with Rye watching me patiently, like he already knew the outcome.

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” I said finally, “i need time.”

Rye leaned closer, “say yes and I’ll prove I’m nothing like your ex.”

Curiosity and fate won and i said yes.

The following week, Ava came to visit me at work, she was laughing, dramatic as ever, when Rye walked in. I introduced them, Ava’s eyes lit up immediately, she smiled at Rye like she’d been waiting for him, and in that moment, something cold slipped down my spine.