Chapter 10- Warmth from his body

Asher's pov.

After the brief chuckle, the room fell quiet again. Leonard turned his head back to the window, his expression flattening out into that familiar, unreadable mask as he stared at the traffic outside.

I leaned down and unzipped my backpack, pulling out my black sketchbook. I placed it onto the wooden surface and slid it gently across the table, stopping it right in front of him.

The motion made Leonard look up from the window.

"The last time we talked," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "I mentioned I’d show you some more of my drawings the next time we ran into each other."

Leonard’s eyes moved from my face down to the heavy paper cover.

He didn't say anything, but he reached out and flipped the book open.

His long fingers turned the pages slowly, his eyes tracking the dark pencil lines of various structures and facial studies.

He stopped on a page near the middle.

It was a detailed sketch of an old man sitting alone on a wooden park bench. A folded newspaper sat on his lap, completely untouched, and his eyes were wide, staring intensely at something far past everything directly in front of him.

"This one," Leonard murmured, his fingers resting on the edge of the page. "His posture is so stiff, but he isn't even looking at the paper. Why did you draw him staring out like that?"

"I saw him a few weeks ago," I explained, leaning forward a bit. "Most people passing by just saw an old guy resting. But to me, it looked like he was completely trapped in his own head. It’s like he was physically sitting on that bench, but his mind was stuck somewhere miles away, dealing with something no one else could see."

Leonard stared at the drawing for a few more seconds, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

He didn't argue or comment, he just turned to the next page and kept looking.

I glanced down at the center of the table and noticed that his caramel macchiato was completely empty, and my second cup of black coffee was gone too.

"I'm going to get us a refill," I said, standing up.

I gathered the two empty ceramic mugs and walked over to the counter. I handed them to the barista, asking for the exact same orders again.

While I waited, my eyes drifted to the glass display case beside the register, where a row of different cakes sat under the bright lights.

I glanced back over my shoulder. Leonard was still leaning over the table, quietly turning another page of my sketchbook. I looked back at the desserts.

For a second, the thought of buying a slice crossed my mind, but I quickly shook it off.

What if he doesn't even like sweet things?

Rich people usually didn't seem like the type to care for sugary desserts.

But then again, Leonard literally ordered a caramel macchiato every single time he came here. That coffee was basically pure sugar, so he clearly had a sweet tooth.

The barista placed the fresh, steaming mugs onto a wooden tray. I picked it up, but as I turned around to walk back, my feet froze. I hesitated, looking at the display case one last time.

I turned back to the register. "Actually, can I add some cake to that?"

"Sure," the barista said. "Which one?"

I stared at the options, my mind going blank as I tried to figure out what a guy like him would actually eat. After a moment of internal debating, I pointed to the round glass dome. "Just two slices of the classic cheesecake, please."

The cashier nodded, plated the slices, and added them to my tray.

I walked back over to our corner, balancing the weight carefully. I set the tray down and gently slid the fresh caramel macchiato and one of the plates in front of Leonard.

The sight of the cake made Leonard looked up from the sketchbook, his dark eyes locking onto it.

"We've both been sitting here for hours just downing coffee," I said, pulling my own plate toward me. "I figured you must be hungry by now."

Leonard didn't say a word. He just stared at the plate, his face completely unreadable before his gaze drifted back down toward the open sketchbook.

"I didn't really know what flavor you'd prefer," I added, the heavy silence suddenly making my skin prickle with embarrassment.

I shifted in my seat, my chest tightening.

Maybe I had overstepped.

Maybe rich people found it insulting when a stranger just bought them random food.

His sudden coldness was making me regret the entire thing.

I picked up my black coffee, taking a slow sip just to give my hands something to do.

Then, Leonard reached out and picked up his small metal fork. He sliced off a neat piece from the edge of the cake and brought it to his mouth, chewing quietly.

A sudden wave of relief washed through my chest, the awkward tension in my shoulders instantly melting away.

I moved my fork through the cheesecake, occasionally stealing glances across the table.

Even doing something as simple as eating, Leonard looked entirely out of reach.

He didn't spill a single crumb, his fingers held the silver fork with effortless precision, and his posture remained perfectly straight.

It looked exhausting, like he had been rigidly trained his entire life to never make a mistake.

A sudden vibration cut through the quiet.

Leonard’s phone buzzed against the wood, a brief notification lighting up the screen. He set his fork down neatly and spent a few seconds typing out a response.

Once he finished, he reached into his inner suit pocket, pulled out a sleek leather wallet, and slid a few crisp bills across the table, right next to my plate.

I stared at the cash, my brows knitting together. "What's this?"

"For the cake," Leonard said, his voice dropping back into that cool, distant tone.

Before I could even respond, he stood up, smoothing down the front of his jacket, and began walking toward the front doors.

A sharp sting of annoyance flared in my chest. I quickly crammed my sketchbook back into my backpack, zipped it shut, and snatched the bills off the table. I moved fast, pushing through the heavy glass doors just as he reached the pavement outside.

"Leonard!" I called out.

He stopped, his shoulders tensing slightly before he turned around to face me.

I closed the distance between us, stretching my arm out to force the cash back toward him. "You don't need to pay me back. Besides, the cake didn't cost anywhere near this much."

Marcus stepped forward instantly, his large frame blocking part of my view as his eyes narrowed. "Just keep the money and leave."

I completely ignored him, keeping my eyes fixed on Leonard. "I bought the cake for you."

"You don't have to do that," Leonard replied flatly.

The words hit like a cold splash of water, leaving a dull ache in my chest.

I swallowed the tight knot in my throat, looked down at the bills, and carefully peeled off the exact amount I had spent at the register. I held out the remaining change.

Leonard didn't move, keeping his hands firmly inside his pockets.

Losing my patience, I stepped closer, grabbed his hand, and pressed the paper money directly into his palm. His skin was surprisingly cold.

Just as our fingers brushed, the sky finally broke, and heavy droplets of rain began to splatter loudly against the concrete sidewalk.

"I only took what I paid," I muttered, letting go of his hand.

Marcus didn't waste a second. He jogged through the downpour over to the sleek black car parked at the curb, popped the trunk, and returned with a large black umbrella, snapping it open as he stepped back under the cafe's entrance awning with us. "Young master, the rain is getting heavy. It's time to go."

I took a few steps back, my back almost hitting the cafe's glass door. The roof overhang kept the rain off us, but the air was turning freezing cold. "Goodbye, then."

Leonard didn't move toward the car. He stood at the edge of the dry shelter, staring out at the grey sheet of water slamming into the pavement just inches away. "It's raining."

"Yeah," I said, leaning against the brick wall. "I can see that."

"How are you getting home?"

"I'll just walk down to the main avenue and flag down a cab," I shrugged, trying to act like the freezing air didn't bother me.

Leonard watched me for some seconds, then reached up and firmly took the handle of the umbrella away from Marcus. He stepped closer to me, holding the dark fabric canopy out. "Take it."

Marcus’s face contorted in immediate panic. "Young master!"

We stood there, inches apart under the small shelter, our eyes locking as the storm raged right past the roofline. The silence stretched between us, heavy and loud against the sound of the downpour.

I looked at the umbrella, then back at his stubborn expression, and shook my head. "It's fine. I don't need it."

Marcus quickly grabbed the handle back, shoving his way into the space to shield Leonard again. "You cannot get wet under any circumstances, sir."

"Seriously, it's fine," I repeated, gesturing to the dry spot we were standing in. "I'll just wait here for the worst of it to pass, then run for a taxi."

Leonard’s dark eyes narrowed, staring so intensely that my gaze finally faltered, and I looked down at the wet pavement just outside our dry square.

Without warning, Leonard reached for his buttons. In a few quick movements, he slid his heavy, dark suit jacket off his shoulders, revealing the crisp white shirt and fitted waistcoat underneath.

"Young master, what are you doing?" Marcus hissed, his voice practically cracking with stress.

Leonard completely ignored him. He held the expensive tailored jacket out toward me. "Use this to cover yourself."

I stared at the jacket, then at him. Even I knew that a suit like that cost more than my entire wardrobe.

The idea of using it to run in the heavy rain felt completely insane. "I can't take that. It's way too expensive. Just get in the car."

Before I could protest any more, Leonard stepped forward and draped it over my shoulder himself, the heavy fabric instantly trapping my warmth inside.

It smelled faintly of expensive cologne and a clean, woody scent.

"You can give it back the next time we meet," Leonard said softly.

He didn't wait for me to pull the fabric away.

He stepped out from under the awning, walking briskly into the downpour toward the car.

Marcus hovered over him tightly the entire way, tilting the umbrella to make sure not a single drop of rain touched his white sleeves.

The heavy car door clicked shut, sealing him inside.

I stood under the cafe shield, clutching the expensive fabric tightly around my shoulders, and watched the taillights disappear into the dark, rainy street.