Chapter 8: A D*ck To Ride On

The first day West decided to act, his heart had nearly beaten its way out of his chest.

He still remembered it clearly.

---

Four days ago

She had walked in alone that day.

She was in blue dress, simple cut and light makeup.

West noticed immediately... not because she was stunning (though she was undeniably beautiful), but because she always wore blue. Sometimes she switched up the shades to navy or sky or teal or Indigo but most of the times, she was in blue.

He had noticed it months ago.

Back then, it hadn’t mattered because West had no secret intentions...

But on that day, it did.

When she stepped up to the counter, West hesitated. His fingers tightened around the cup he was holding. His mind told him to stay quiet, to stay safe... due to the anti social personality he had cultivated since he was much younger.

But the system hovered in the back of his mind, silent and expectant.

<[ Flirt with another man’s girlfriend ]>

He took a breath and finally spoke.

"Blue again," he said lightly.

She blinked. "Huh?"

West met her eyes for just a second, then looked back down at the register like it was nothing important. "You wear it a lot. Must be your favorite."

Silence~

West braced himself for a harsh rebuttal... For awkwardness... or regret.

Instead—

"...It is," she said slowly. "How did you know that?"

West shrugged casually. "I pay attention."

Her lips parted slightly.

"That’s... weird," she said. Then smiled. "In a good way."

She hesitated, then added, "Ross doesn’t even know that."

That was when West realized something crucial.

People liked being seen.

That conversation had lasted less than a minute.

But it had mattered.

---

The second day, she came in with Ross.

West hadn’t planned to say anything.

He didn’t need to.

They were already arguing.

It wasn’t loud but it was a little tense. Sharp words clipped short and frustration simmered.

Ross stepped away mid-sentence with bis phone pressed to his ear. "They need me at this new ruin," he snapped. "Don’t start."

Then he walked out.

She stood there, stunned with her hands clenched at her sides.

West slid her order across the counter gently. "Rough day?"

She exhaled shakily. "You have no idea."

West hesitated only a moment before reaching under the counter and placing a cupcake beside her drink.

"On the house," he said.

She looked up, startled. "You don’t have to—"

"I know."

She stared at him for a second longer.

"...Thank you."

She smiled when she left.

---

The third day, she didn’t come and West noticed this but he told himself he would have another chance.

The fourth day, she rushed in late with her hair tied up and phone buzzing nonstop.

She barely stopped at the counter.

"Same order?" West asked.

She nodded distractedly.

As he handed it to her, a sudden gust of wind rushed through the open door behind her, lifting his hair and messing it up completely.

This made his hair look similar to the now present way it was styled.

She paused then laughed softly.

"...You actually look better like that," she said. "Less... stiff."

West blinked.

’Better?’

That word stayed with him long after she left.

That night, he stood in front of his mirror and finally understood.

Image mattered and he could change it.

Messy shoulder-length black hair he’d never bothered to style. Glasses he wore even though his vision barely needed them. Clothes chosen for comfort, not presence.

Dorky...

Invisible...

If he wanted this to work... he needed to be seen.

West took scissors to his hair and carefully trimmed, layered and shaped its appearance.

The reflection slowly changed. He didn’t recognize the person staring back at him when he was done and that terrified him more than it excited him.

He went further by grabbing a hair dye from the nearby convenience store and worked a white tint into the front strands.

He tried on clothes differently. Stood differently. Held his shoulders back.

For the first time in his life, West didn’t dress to disappear.

He dressed to be seen.

---

Now today, he stood behind the counter, watching her through the reflection of the glass display case as he finished her order.

Everything so far had been groundwork.

Observation.

Consistency.

Small kindnesses.

No pressure.

No force.

No rushing.

Every day, it had gotten easier.

Not because he’d become smooth overnight but because confidence grew with proof.

And today he had decided that he would finally flirt with her and complete the system quest.

West exhaled...

He placed her order on a tray and walked it over himself instead of calling her name.

She looked up as he approached with her brows lifting in mild surprise.

"Service upgrade?" she teased.

West smiled faintly. "Felt like stretching my legs."

He set the tray down gently. "How’s your day been?"

She considered the question, then sighed. "Complicated."

West nodded, taking that in. "Those are the worst ones."

She laughed quietly. "You’re not wrong."

A comfortable pause settled between them.

West didn’t sit or linger too long.

He just met her gaze and said, "You always seem calmer after you’re here."

She tilted her head. "Do I?"

"Yeah," West replied easily. "It suits you."

That earned him another smile... a slower much thoughtful smile.

Her phone buzzed on the table, she glanced at it and then turned it face-down with a slight frown.

West already knew what this meant... he’d have to hold on a little.

"Well," he said while straightening slightly, "enjoy your drink."

As he turned to leave, she spoke again.

"Hey—"

He looked back.

"What’s your name?" she asked.

West met her eyes.

"West."

She smiled. "I’m Aria."

West inclined his head slightly. "Nice to officially meet you, Aria."

As he walked back to the counter, his hands shook just a little.

West didn’t flirt yet and it wasn’t fear that stopped him... at least, not entirely.

From behind the counter, he noticed the way Aria’s phone kept buzzing repeately. Each vibration made her glance down as her expression shifted from neutral to hopeful... then to tight-lipped irritation when nothing followed.

Waiting.

She was waiting for someone.

West didn’t need the system to tell him who.

Ross.

Her awakened boyfriend. The one who could walk through that café door at any moment and turn West into a smear on the floor if he felt like it.

West wasn’t stupid.

Flirting while her boyfriend could show up at any second wasn’t bold... it was suicidal.

So he waited.

Orders came and went. Cups were filled. Cakes were sliced. Jax cracked jokes, Mina barked orders, the rhythm of the café carrying the minutes forward whether West was ready or not.

Aria stayed seated.

She didn’t touch her drink after a while.

Her fingers tapped against the table.

Her lips pursed tightly.

West noticed the moment it changed—from patience to irritation... from irritation to anger.

By the time closing hour crept closer, Aria wasn’t just annoyed.

She was seething.

West wiped down the counter slowly with his eyes flicking to her when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

She hadn’t moved from her seat in over an hour.

Her phone lay face-up now and the screen was dark.

That was when West knew.

She got stood up.

The bell above the café door chimed as the last customer left. Mina flipped the sign to CLOSED and clapped her hands sharply.

"Alright, lovers of caffeine," she said. "Wrap it up."

Jax groaned dramatically. "Another day of surviving capitalism."

West smirked faintly as he grabbed a rag and began wiping down tables. Chairs were stacked. The espresso machine hissed one final time before falling silent.

Aria remained seated.

She stared out the window now with her arms crossed and her jaw clenched hard enough to crack porcelain.

West hesitated.

Then made his decision.

He finished his tasks methodically, then walked over.

"Rough night?" he asked gently.

Aria flinched, then sighed deeply, shoulders slumping as if she’d been holding herself together by sheer will.

"Did it show?" she muttered.

West offered a small smile. "A little."

She laughed bitterly. "Figures."

He leaned casually against the back of the chair opposite her, keeping his distance.

"Let me guess," he said lightly. "He didn’t show."

She closed her eyes. "...Yeah."

The word carried exhaustion with it.

"Gang stuff again," she continued, spilling out her frustration. "Ruins. Meetings. Some stupid emergency that always matters more than me."

West listened without interrupting.

That alone seemed to loosen something in her.

"I rearranged my entire day for him," her voice rose. "Canceled plans. Got dressed up. Came early."

She gestured at herself, clearly aware of how she looked.

"And he didn’t even text."

Her hands clenched. "I get it. He’s awakened. He’s important. But I’m not some accessory he can just leave on a shelf."

She stopped suddenly.

Blinking.

"...Sorry," she added quickly. "I didn’t mean to dump all that on you."

West chuckled softly. "It’s fine."

She glanced at him, surprised. "It is?"

"Yeah," he said easily. "You look cute when you rant."

Her eyes widened. "I—what?"

West met her gaze, unflinching.

"It suits you," he added calmly. "Passion looks good on you."

Aria stared at him and the air seemed to shift a little.

"That’s dangerous talk," she said slowly. "You know I have a boyfriend, right?"

West nodded. "I noticed."

"An awakened one."

"Also noticed."

She raised a brow. "He could literally rip you in two."

West leaned in just slightly, close enough to feel intimate, far enough to be respectful.

"Worth the danger," he said quietly.

Her breath stopped and for a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.

Then she laughed, breathlessly. "You’re crazy."

"Maybe," West replied. "But I’m honest."

She tilted her head, studying him. "You’re younger than me."

"Age is just a number," West said smoothly. "Confidence is timeless. Besides, I have all the time in the world right now to give you, unlike a certain someone who doesn’t..."

Her lips parted.

She shook her head. "I have a boyfriend."

"And I’m not asking you to leave him," West replied calmly.

She frowned. "Then what are you asking?"

West smiled.

"I’m offering to be the guy who actually sees you," he stated. "The one who doesn’t stand you up. The one who listens... a shoulder to cry on."

Aria’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. "A shoulder to cry on winds up being a dick to ride on..."

"and that sounds like a bad idea," she murmured.

"Probably," West agreed. "But bad ideas tend to be memorable."