Breath 4

Tom burst through the back door of the restaurant,

the warm night air rushing over his flushed face.

Behind him, Ploy’s voice carried through the kitchen, sharp and frantic.

“Tom! Where the hell do you think you’re going?

Taking a sweet break?!”

Her voice was near hysterical.

She was covered in curry and chili sauce,

her hair sticking to her damp forehead as she tossed vegetables

and noodles into the sizzling wok.

The heat from the stove had her sweating,

but she barely noticed, too panicked trying to keep up

with the avalanche of orders.

Tom shut his eyes, just for a second,

letting the humid evening wrap around him.

The stars flickered softly in the night sky,

a quiet beauty that felt entirely disconnected from the chaos

of the restaurant.

He took a deep breath.

“Where’s my fucking rent, Chico?”

His eyelids flew open.

Mrs. Alvarez stood right in front of him,

snapping her fingers dramatically,

her voice loud enough to startle a stray cat rummaging through a dumpster.

Her boyfriend—tall, impossibly handsome, and exuding

effortless arrogance—stood beside her with his arms crossed,

giving Tom a slow, unimpressed once-over.

Tom blinked. “Huh?”

Mrs. Alvarez rolled her eyes before raising her voice for the whole alley to hear.

“You owe me rent! You’re a delinquent! A fraud! A—”

Tom groaned internally.

He turned to walk away, but Mrs. Alvarez wasn’t done humiliating him.

“Oh sure, just walk away! That’s how you deal with rent, huh?

Pretend it doesn’t exist, just like you’re pretending

you can afford to live in my building!”

Tom barely had time to react before her boyfriend

suddenly reached out and grabbed his shirt,

pulling him forward in an attempt to intimidate him.

Their faces were inches apart.

But then… something strange happened.

Mrs Alvarez boyfriend’s grip faltered.

His gaze lingered, and for the briefest second,

his expression shifted.

Tom frowned.

The guy wasn’t glaring at him anymore.

He was… staring?

Mrs. Alvarez noticed.

And she did NOT like it.

She let out a dramatic gasp.

“Excuse me?! Are you checking him out?!”

The model boyfriend quickly let go,

stepping back like Tom had burned him. “What?! No! I—I just—”

Mrs. Alvarez lost it.

She smacked his arm.

“I cannot believe this! First, my tenant doesn’t pay me,

and now my man is having a crisis?!”

Tom took this as his cue to exit.

He stepped away from Mrs. Alvarez and all her rent drama.

He leaned against the rough brick wall of

the restaurant, exhaling slowly.

“Hey.”

Tom glanced to his right.

A guy stood there, leaning against the wall just like him,

watching him with a small, knowing smirk.

He was holding a cigarette between his fingers,

and his dark eyes flickered in the dim light of the alley.

“You got a lighter?”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

The guy clicked his tongue and grinned. “Ah, well. My bad.”

That’s when Tom actually looked at him—really looked at him.

He was striking, in that casual, effortless way.

Tousled dark hair, smooth skin, and the kind of lazy confidence

that made Tom’s stomach tighten.

The guy noticed.

His lips curled into a teasing smirk.

“Are you by any chance, checking me out?”

Tom stiffened. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

The guy laughed, a soft chuckle that made Tom’s face

burn hotter than the kitchen grill. “It’s fine,” he said, winking. “I don’t mind.”

Just then, a leaf drifted from above and landed in Tom’s hair.

The guy tilted his head, stepping closer.

Before Tom could react, the stranger reached up,

his fingers lightly grazing Tom’s temple as he plucked the leaf from his hair.

Their faces were close—so close that for a second, Tom thought…

He swallowed. Was he… Was this guy going to—

The guy smirked and flicked the leaf away. “Relax. Just a leaf.”

Tom turned red.

The guy held out a plastic cup, condensation beading on the surface.

“You look like you could use this,” the guy said. “Tough night, huh?”

Tom hesitated before taking it.

The drink was ice-cold against his palm.

As he did, he noticed something scrawled on the side of the cup.

A phone number.

The guy gave him a playful motion to call him, then winked.

He has to go back to work.

He works at the coffee shop, next door.

Before Tom could respond, the back door flew open,

and Ploy stormed out, looking even more frantic.

“Tom! Get your ass back inside before I throw YOU in the wok!”

Tom sighed, casting one last glance at the coffee guy

who gave him a slight smile

As Ploy dragged him away.

His heart was still racing—not from work, but from something entirely different.