Claimed By The Hyde - Two
The smirk, the cocky attitude, the way he always acted like he knew me better than I knew myself. He was the boy every girl in Jericho wanted... and the one I wanted to strangle.
But Tyler didn't just notice me-he watched me. He pushed and teased and cornered me until I couldn't breathe without thinking of him. And no matter how many times I told myself I hated him, my body betrayed me every single time.
Because the truth is, Tyler never hated me. He wanted me-always had. And he wasn't going to stop until I was his. In every way.
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Two: Coffee Complications (2.3K words)
It had been a week since that first glance. Seven days where I could not get him out of my head. Every class felt longer than it should, each minute dragging behind the last as my thoughts kept drifting back to him. That brief look, the way his eyes had cut through the fog of Nevermore and landed on me with a force I could not explain, had embedded itself into my mind like a stubborn echo. I could feel him even in the smallest things—the scratching of chalk across the board, the low hum of a lecture, the shuffle of feet in the hallway, even the way sunlight slanted across the windows in uneven patterns.
Enid noticed immediately. "You're distracted again," she said, voice quiet enough that no one else would hear. "You have that 'I just saw someone dangerous and now I can't stop thinking about him' look."
I gave her a tight-lipped smile and did not bother denying it. It would be useless. He had invaded my thoughts, and I could not convince myself to care.
By mid-morning, my focus was slipping entirely. In history class, I could hear the teacher talking about the rise of civilisations, but the words barely registered. All I could see was the way his dark hair fell across his forehead in the sun, the sharpness of his jaw, the slow, deliberate way he had leaned against that truck. I tried to take notes, but my handwriting was messy, with jagged lines that did not make sense. Every few seconds, my gaze drifted toward the window as if I might catch sight of him there again, standing on the street, leaning with that same casual confidence.
Even during lunch, I found myself scanning the streets outside the cafeteria windows. Every dark-haired figure walking past made my pulse jump, and every time it wasn't him, I felt a little heavier with disappointment. I ate mechanically, taking bites of food I barely tasted, nodding and smiling at the few friends I had at the table, but my mind remained elsewhere.
By mid-afternoon, I had stopped even pretending to focus. Teachers' voices had melted into one continuous hum, and every step through the hallways felt like it was measured against the memory of his eyes. I remembered the weight of his stare, the way it had caught me completely off guard, and the thrill it had left in its wake. My stomach tightened with longing and anticipation I could not name, and I felt foolish for thinking a single glance could have such a hold on me.
During study hall, I found myself doodling in the margins of my notebook. Shapes, shadows, and lines that somehow resembled him, though nothing was clear. I scribbled over them quickly when Enid glanced at my work, her smirk indicating that she knew exactly what I was doing. "Thinking about your mystery guy again?" she asked quietly. I tried to shove the notebook away, but she reached out and grabbed it, flipping through pages. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Still got that look. Still can't stop thinking about him."
I groaned softly and tried to hide my face behind my hands. "It's nothing," I muttered.
"Sure it is," she said, shaking her head. "You've been distracted all week. It's cute, though. I'll give you that."
By the time the last bell rang, I felt like my body was vibrating with impatience. My backpack felt heavy on my shoulders, but it was not the weight of books that was bothering me. It was the restlessness that had been building inside me all week, the urgent need to see if he was real, if this strange tension I felt between us was more than my imagination.
I told Enid I was going for a walk. She gave me a knowing look, one of those looks that let you know she already had figured out what I was thinking, but she didn't press me. She trusted me enough to let me follow this obsession, though she would no doubt tease me mercilessly later.
I told Enid I was going for a walk. I didn't tell her where I was going, just that I needed a little space to myself. I wandered through the foggy streets, letting the familiar mist curl around me. The cool air was calming, though my heart beat faster with each step. My thoughts were a storm, and I needed a small anchor.
That anchor became the idea of a café. Somewhere warm, quiet, with a cup of coffee to ground me.
I only wanted to sip something hot, maybe read a little, maybe watch the fog shift across the streets outside. A normal night. Something to soothe the constant hum of tension inside me.
The café was quiet when I pushed the door open. The fog outside had swallowed the streets, leaving the town empty and mysterious. Inside, the warm glow of lights and the smell of coffee and pastries wrapped around me like a small comfort. I had only wanted a cup of coffee. Nothing fancy. Something to calm my racing thoughts and settle my pulse. I had not expected anything else.
I hadn't even opened the menu when I felt him. Someone leaning close, close enough that my chest jumped. My brain froze. I had not heard his voice before, had not known his name, and yet there he was, impossible to ignore. The dim light hit his face perfectly, shadows emphasising the sharp angles of his jaw and the dark hair that fell just slightly into his eyes.
"Coffee. Black, right?" His voice was low, making my stomach.
"I... yes," I stammered, gripping the edge of the table.
He smirked, that croked smile that made my chest ache. "Y/N, right? I saw you a few days ago, out by the clothing store around the corner."
"I dont think we've met before," I muttered.
"Not officially," he said, tilting his head. "But, you seem to have caught my eye, sweetheart."
My stomach did a little flip at the nickname.
I tried to focus on the menu, but my eyes kept flicking to him. Every small movement, the tilt of his head, the faint curl of his lips, the way his dark eyes studied me, made it impossible to look away.
"You work here often?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady.
"Sometimes," he said, leaning casually against the table. "Evenings are better. Quieter. Easier to notice things, people."
I wanted to look away, but I couldn't.
He handed me the cup, and our fingers brushed. Sparks shot up my arm, and my chest hammered. I pulled back slightly, pretending it didn't matter, but the faint grin on his lips told me he had noticed.
"You always sit alone?" he asked, leaning just enough to make the space between us charged.
"Sometimes," I admitted softly. "You're not the only one who likes the quiet."
"Smart choice," he said, voice smooth and low. "Though sitting alone has its drawbacks. You never know who might wander in and ruin your evening with a little charm, doll." He let the word linger with a playful curl of his lips.
I sipped the coffee, trying to focus on the warmth in my hands, but it was impossible. Every glance, every movement of his, made it impossible to pretend he was just a stranger.
He leaned closer for a moment, letting his dark eyes flicker over me with that teasing spark, and then, just like that, he straightened and walked away. No warning, no goodbye, just a casual, effortless movement that left my chest tight and my stomach twisting. I watched him disappear behind the counter, a ghost of a smirk lingering in my mind.
I stayed at the table, sipping my coffee slowly, though I barely tasted it. The café was quiet, almost too quiet, and the warmth of the cup in my hands was comforting, grounding me as my thoughts spun out of control. I watched the fog outside shift and curl against the streetlights, replaying his face, his smirk, the way he had leaned close and dropped those little nicknames like they belonged to me.
Minutes stretched into an hour. The chairs around me gradually emptied as the last few patrons left, leaving the place in a hushed, almost sacred silence. The barista wiped down counters, stacks of dishes clinking softly, and the soft hum of the heater filled the gaps between my thoughts. I tried to convince myself that I was overthinking it, that he was just a stranger who had been flirty and charming for a few minutes. But my pulse told me otherwise.
By the time the staff began arranging chairs and signaling it was nearly closing, I decided it was time to leave. I had no idea what I had been hoping for, another glance, maybe a word, but the reality was that he was gone and the moment had slipped through my fingers.
I slid out my chair and headed toward the door, pulling my coat around me.
I froze in the doorway, my stomach twisting as the laughter hit me. Three familiar voices, the same boys who had made my life miserable for years, had just walked into the café. Their smirks were sharp, cruel, and aimed straight at me.
"Well, well, if it isn't little Y/N," one said, leaning casually against the counter. "Look at you, all alone. You really do think you can sneak around without us noticing."
"Yeah, sitting here like some little queen of the café," another said, tilting his head and grinning. "Cute, but maybe a little boring, don't you think, princess?"
I stiffened, my hands trembling as heat rushed to my face. I wanted to leave, to vanish into the fog outside, but my feet felt glued to the floor.
"Maybe we should have a little fun with you tonight," the first boy said, eyes glinting with mischief. "I bet we could get you to do anything we wanted."
"I can imagine," the third added, voice low and teasing. "You'd love it, wouldn't you?"
My chest tightened. Every word they spat was meant to humiliate me, and it worked. I could feel the old anger, the shame from years of their teasing, bubbling up inside me. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but I could not. I could barely breathe.
"Look at her," the second boy said, smirking. "Still thinking she's untouchable."
I wanted to disappear. My fingers clenched around the strap of my bag. I wanted to run, to escape this sudden nightmare in what had been a quiet, peaceful evening.
"I'm leaving," I muttered, my voice barely audible, but loud enough for them to hear.
"Oh, going already, princess?" the first said, stepping closer. "Don't run away. We were just getting started. You know we could have so much fun with you."
I shook my head, forcing my legs to move. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out their laughter and cruel nicknames. I could feel their eyes on me, heavy and mocking, every step I took down the empty café, feeling like they were pushing me further into humiliation.
But then they noticed him.
"Oh, hey, Tyler!" one of the boys called out, pushing himself away from the counter with exaggerated energy. "There you are, man! We were wondering where you'd vanished to."
"Finally! There you are!" another said, bumping his shoulder against Tyler's.
They crowded around him, laughing like they were lifelong friends, clapping him on the back, and exchanging easy jokes that I had no place in. Tyler laughed too, the kind of easy, smooth laugh that I had imagined was just for me, just for our little spark. But now I saw it wasn't. He belonged to them. He fit in with their world. He was one of them.
I felt my stomach drop, a hollow ache replacing the flutter I had felt just moments ago.
They turned toward me, smirking as if daring me to notice their joke. "See you around," one said, voice low and teasing.
I could not breathe. My coffee felt like it had gone cold in my hands. Every flirty glance, every charming word he had said, every playful nickname now felt like a lie. My stomach churned, and a sharp, bitter anger cut through the disappointment.
Tyler caught my gaze briefly and smiled that same crooked smile. He leaned on the counter, casual and smooth, and said, "Everything okay, doll?"
I could not answer. My throat tightened, my chest burned with betrayal. That smile, that easy charm, had lost all warmth. I had been imagining something that was never mine to imagine, believing in a spark that now felt like a cruel joke.
The boys laughed quietly among themselves, nudging each other. "Don't worry, princess. We'll see you around," one said.
I could not stay. I did not want to hear any more, to see any more of that camaraderie I had been foolish enough to imagine I shared with him. I grabbed my bag and pushed through the door, the fog outside swallowing me instantly. The night felt colder, the streets more desolate than ever.
I kept walking, my steps uneven, letting the fog hide me from the world, from them, and most of all from him. My pulse raced, a mixture of anger, hurt, and disbelief. I had been chasing something thrilling, something dangerous and magnetic. Instead, I had found out the truth. He belonged with them, the ones who had tormented me for years.
By the time I reached Nevermore, my hands shook and my chest burned with betrayal. The spark I had imagined, the pull I had felt all week, had turned to ash. I had wanted something new and exciting, but tonight had reminded me that some truths could never be charming or flirty.
Some people could never be trusted.
