Axel
Monday, February 23, 5:25 p.m.
I had asked Tiffany to meet me at Addy's - a quiet, inconspicuous café tucked away from the public eye. It was the kind of place where I wouldn't be recognized easily, and more importantly, where Ashton wouldn't just happen to show up.
My manager, however, was livid.
He'd barely let me finish my sentence before launching into a tirade. "Are you completely out of your mind? Revealing your real name to some random café staff? And texting a waitress? Have you completely forgotten who you are?" His words echoed in my head long after the call ended, a mix of disbelief and fury in every syllable.
And honestly, for a second-I wondered if he was right.
A celebrity like me, asking a complete stranger to meet me in secret? What was I even thinking?
"This is reckless. Stupid. Desperate." His voice had thundered through the phone, but I was already halfway lost in my thoughts.
Still... did it really matter?
I knew it sounded irrational-even careless-but something about Ashton felt different. There was no red carpet, no screaming fans, no flashing cameras when I looked at her. Just her. Raw and real.
"Listen to me, Axel!" Magnus's voice suddenly broke through my haze, snapping me back to the present. "You can't just do whatever you want! You're not some regular guy anymore!"
I blinked, startled, my heartbeat skipping.
I wasn't even head over heels for that café girl. Was I?
She was just... magnetic. Unapologetically herself. There was something in the way she looked at the world-like she saw through the chaos, past the fame, the gloss, the polished act everyone else seemed to perform around me. She didn't chase a spotlight; she avoided it. There was no script, no filter-just quiet strength and something raw that lingered in her silence.
And God, she was beautiful. Not in the camera-ready, powdered, perfected sense. No. It was in the way her curls tumbled carelessly into a messy bun, in the quiet determination behind her thoughtful eyes, in the way she didn't seem to realize just how striking she was. That honey-gold skin, those sharply observant glances that made you feel like she saw more than you were saying.
But it wasn't just about how she looked.
It was... how she felt. Like stillness in a world that never stopped spinning.
Still -- was I reading too much into it?
Maybe it was just the contrast. Maybe I was just drawn to her because she didn't care who I was. Maybe I'd fixated on the one person who hadn't tried to impress me. That didn't mean I was falling for her... right?
Still, my chest tightened just thinking about her. My pulse quickened like it knew something I didn't want to admit yet.
No. Come on, Axel. You met her today. You don't even know her.
So why did she already feel impossible to forget?
And yet, my heart was pounding like it was trying to break free from my chest.
About half an hour later, Magnus barged into my suite without knocking. His face was flushed, brows stitched together in that way that meant I was in for another scolding.
"I'm coming with you."
"No, you're not," I muttered, already exhausted by the argument I knew was coming.
We went back and forth for a solid fifteen minutes-him raising his voice, me trying to stay calm-until finally, after enough pleading and empty promises, he relented. With a frustrated groan and one final glare, he stormed out.
Thank God. I'd go alone.
At exactly 5:32, the bell above the café door chimed, soft and barely noticeable-unless you were waiting for someone. I looked up, and there she was. Tiffany. Her eyes scanned the café until they found mine. Then she made her way over, weaving past tables with that signature glint in her eye-equal parts mischief and calculation.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to act unbothered, but the moment she sat down across from me, I instinctively leaned in closer.
"Hey," I said. "You didn't tell Ash I asked you to meet me... or that I got her number from you, right?"
She smirked. "Absolutely not. Why would I ruin the fun?" Folding her arms, she gave me a sly once-over. "But seriously, what's with the cloak-and-dagger routine? You look like you're planning a heist."
I exhaled slowly, buying time. "Let's just talk first."
She nodded, though I could feel her eyes analyzing me-dissecting every shift in my posture, every pause in my speech. It wasn't the starstruck admiration I was used to. It was sharper than that. Curious. Intentional.
I adjusted slightly in my seat, suddenly feeling like I was under a microscope.
"Alright, spill," she said. "This is about Ash, right? So go ahead. But first-be honest. You like her, don't you?"
I didn't even hesitate. "Is it that obvious? Yeah. I think I'm kind of in love with her."
Tiffany's eyes widened. She nearly choked on thin air. "In love?! You met her yesterday."
I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated at myself for how true it felt. "I know how crazy it sounds. But there's something about her. She doesn't give a damn about who I am. She didn't even blink when she heard my name. It was... refreshing. No masks. No games."
She tilted her head slightly, lips pursed, clearly trying to decide whether I was joking or insane. I held her gaze, unwavering.
At last, she nodded slowly. "Alright. Here's the lowdown. Ash works part-time as a waitress-yeah, you figured that out. But she's insanely hardworking. Like, beyond belief. She wants to be a full-time artist. Lives and breathes it. Her mom died when she was five, and her dad's... not great. Alcoholic. She basically raised her younger brother-he's twenty-two now. She's the one holding that whole family together."
Her words hit harder than I expected. A lump caught in my throat. I tapped my fingers against the table, processing it.
"Damn. That's a lot," I said quietly. "I get it, though. My parents died when I was four. I know what it's like to grow up without them."
Tiffany's expression softened, her tone shifting from snarky to sincere for the first time that evening.
I leaned forward again, voice lower now. "I want to talk to her again. Could you convince her to meet me tomorrow? Here, or somewhere else she'd prefer. Just us. No pressure."
Tiffany arched a brow, arms still crossed. "And what do I get in return?"
I groaned. "What do you want?"
Her face lit up like she'd been waiting for this moment all day. "I want to meet Nathan Rojas. Just once. Please. My soul would literally ascend."
I laughed. "Deal. But only if Ashton shows."
She extended her hand. I shook it, firm.
"Done," she said with a grin.
I exhaled. Slowly. Things were falling into place. But something in me still felt... unsettled.
"One more thing," I added. "Don't tell her I like her. Please. That would make it weird. Just say I want to talk. As a friend. I want her to feel comfortable. I want her to choose to open up."
Tiffany tilted her head. "She's not the easiest to crack. Shy. Closed off. Constantly doubting herself."
I smirked. "Sounds like a challenge. I like challenges."
A beat passed. "What else does she like?"
"Art," she replied without hesitation. "It's her safe space. It's how she breathes. Drawing is her way of coping."
A grin spread across my face. "Then I shouldn't meet her in a café. I should meet her somewhere she belongs. Somewhere she'd feel understood. Theo's Art Gallery. It's perfect."
Tiffany nodded. "Smart move."
I leaned back, now feeling that spark of adrenaline again. "Tell Shark Girl-uh, I mean Ashton-to meet me at Theo's tomorrow. Just her. Just me."
Tiffany raised a knowing eyebrow. "Shark Girl, huh? That's... interesting."
Heat flushed up my neck. I looked away. "Just get her there."
"Sure thing," she said with a smirk. "Don't forget about Nathan."
"Yeah, yeah. A deal's a deal."
As she walked away, I glanced down at my phone.
Heart still racing.
Ash
Monday, February 23, 7:35 p.m.
I was in the middle of a delicate balancing act—one hand flipping through the pages of my case study, the other stirring the pot on the stove. The apartment smelled like garlic and butter, but my brain was too fried from studying to actually enjoy it.
I'd been staring at the canvas for too long again.
The face forming beneath my brush wasn't anyone real—just a collection of soft lines and borrowed dreams. A jaw that didn't belong to anyone I knew. Eyes I'd never actually seen. I liked it that way. Faces were easier when they weren't attached to people.
Tiffany watched me from the couch, legs tucked under her.
"You know," she said, like the thought had just occurred to her, "if I ever had obscene amounts of money, I'd vanish for a few months and come back looking like Megan Fox."
"Who?" I asked, still painting.
She gasped. Loudly. Offended. "I'm not even surprised."
I frowned. "About what?"
"You didn't know Megan Fox," Tiffany went on, "and you didn't know about Axel Hale either, so honestly, I wasn't shocked."
I sighed. "I know now."
"Barely," she said. Then her eyes lit up, and I knew I'd made a mistake by engaging.
"Have you actually looked at him?"
She didn't wait for an answer.
"He's tall—like, unfairly tall. Definitely over six feet. The kind of height that makes people tilt their heads without realizing it."
She smiled to herself. "And his eyes, Ash. Brown, but not boring-brown. The prettiest shade—warm and deep, like they're always holding onto sunlight."
I dipped my brush into a lighter color, pretending not to listen.
"And his face—God," she continued. "Perfect bone structure. A jawline that looks carved, not grown. Like a sculptor got carried away and forgot humans aren't supposed to look like that."
She made a vague motion with her hands.
"And don't even get me started on the body. Broad shoulders. Actual muscles, not gym-show-off ones—real, effortless strength. Like he doesn't try; he just is."
I glanced at the canvas again, the painted figure suddenly feeling… unfinished.
"And the hair," Tiffany said softly now. "Always messy. Dark. Like he just woke up from a dream and decided not to fix it."
She leaned back, exhaling.
"The man looks like a Greek god who wandered out of a myth and somehow learned how to smile."
I swallowed. "You're romanticizing him."
"I'm being accurate."
I softened the line of the painted cheek, thinking. "Faces are just… arrangements. You can rearrange them now. Change the structure. The bone. The skin. People do it all the time."
Tiffany shrugged. "Sure. But even if you change how you look, you're still you underneath."
I didn't answer right away.
I added a final stroke near the eyes and stepped back. The face on the canvas felt almost familiar—beautiful in a distant, unreal way. Like something remembered wrong.
"Are you?" I asked quietly.
Tiffany glanced at the painting. "That's gorgeous."
I studied it too.
"Pretty is easy," I said. "It's recognition that's complicated."
Then, without warning, she yelled on top of her voice.
"Aaaash!"
I barely had time to turn before Tiffany threw herself at me, wrapping me in an excited hug. The force of it nearly sent me tripping over a chair.
"Tiff—what the hell?!" I exclaimed, pushing her off slightly.
"Listen, listen, listen! Too much of this deep discussion about plastic surgery and how people don't change and shit" she fired away, practically vibrating with energy. "The important thing is- Axel wants to meet you at Theo's Art Gallery tomorrow. You'll go, right? Right?"
I blinked, my brain struggling to switch from constitutional law to whatever this was.
"Woah, woah, woah—calm down! First of all, why would I meet him? I don't even know him. And second, how did he even tell you this? Did he text you? Wait—do you have his number? And why does he suddenly want to meet me? This is—"
A groan, followed by a hand smacking over my mouth.
"Will you just stop overthinking for once?" Tiffany sighed dramatically, as if I was the one being ridiculous. "I just happened to run into Axel, okay? I said hi, and he mentioned wanting to meet you. That's it."
Then she leaned in slightly, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Oh, and don't tell him I said this, but… I think the guy likes you."
I immediately frowned, yanking her hand off my face.
"What? Likes me? That's ridiculous. We barely talked! And—wait, what do you mean for you? How does any of this benefit you?"
At this, her expression shifted entirely.
Her eyes lit up, her lips curling into a knowing smile.
"Ohhh, well…" she drawled, toying with the hem of her sleeve. "If you meet Axel, he's gonna introduce me to Nathan Rojas. THE. NATHAN. ROJAS."
I groaned, rubbing my temples. Of course.
I didn't even need to turn my head to remember that every available inch of Tiffany's bedroom walls was plastered with posters of Nathan Rojas—her ultimate idol, the love of her life, the one man she claimed she would abandon all dignity for.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
Tiffany clasped her hands together, her eyes practically pleading.
"Please, Ash. Do it for me."
I sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Do I really have to?"
"YES. Yes, yes, yes!" She grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me slightly. "You are my only hope!"
I exhaled sharply. There was no way out of this. Absolutely no way in hell Tiffany would let this go.
"Fine," I muttered.
"YES!" Tiffany did a little victory dance, punching the air.
But before she could get too comfortable, I cut in.
"Apart from all that, I need to tell you something."
She paused, picking up on my tone. "Okay… what is it? You seem bothered."
I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
"There's this guy who keeps texting me. He's irritating."
Tiffany raised an eyebrow. "Block him then. Simple."
I was about to nod when she suddenly narrowed her eyes in thought.
"Actually… let me see the texts first."
I handed over my phone, watching as her gaze scanned the messages.
Then—she snorted.
Immediately, I tensed. "What? Why are you laughing?"
Tiffany smirked, already pulling out her own phone.
"Oh, nothing. I'm just noting this number down. I'll try to find out who it is, Shark Girl."
I groaned at the nickname.
"Ugh. Don't call me that."
She grinned. "And don't block the number yet."
"What? Why not—"
Before I could finish, she had already twirled on her heel and waltzed out of my apartment, her mischievous smile lingering in the air.
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair.
That girl is a menace.
Then—
My phone vibrated again.
Another message.
Thought about it yet?
A dull twist settled in my stomach. Ugh. Not again.
I rolled my eyes, typing back.
Oh, I don't have time for rubbish, you see.
Immediately—three dots appeared.
Then: Okay, Shark Girl.
My breath hitched.
The nickname.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard, but before I could respond, another notification popped up. I didn't even bother reading it—I had already switched off my phone.
I had bigger things to worry about.
Like the fact that tomorrow, I was meeting Axel.
And I had no idea what to expect.
Axel
Monday, February 23, 8:10 p.m.
I sat on the edge of my bed, my phone resting loosely in my hands. My mind was a battlefield of nerves, thoughts circling endlessly around tomorrow's meeting with Ashton. I barely knew her, so why the hell was I so tense about it? And yet… something about this felt different. Important.
Then, my phone buzzed. "Guess who I am?" I frowned at the unknown number, suspicion prickling at the back of my mind.
"Who are you?"
The response came almost instantly. "Shark Girl's best friend." I exhaled sharply, tension in my shoulders easing slightly. Tiffany. Of course.
Still, something about this didn't sit right. I quickly typed back. "Where did you get my number?"
I could already guess the answer. "From Ash, of course. Though I haven't told her that it was you texting her."
Dragging a hand down my face, I let out a slow breath. Should've known Tiffany would find a way to dig into this. No point in asking how she managed it.
"Okay… why are you texting me?"
"Just to tell you that Ash agreed to meet you tomorrow at Theo's. Meet us there at 6 p.m."
I blinked at the message, rereading it twice. She agreed? I had expected hesitation. Maybe even outright rejection. But she was actually coming. My fingers hovered over the keyboard before I finally responded.
"Okay. So you're tagging along?"
"Obviously. You think I'd let my girl go alone? No chance."
I sighed. Great. Tiffany was chaotic energy in human form, and while I could tolerate her in small doses, I really didn't want her hovering over my conversation with Ash. I needed a plan. A distraction. Then, an idea struck.
"Alright. See you two there."
Without wasting a second, I pulled up Nathan's chat and started typing. "Nate, can you please, please come to Theo's with me tomorrow? I know you're free." A few minutes passed before my phone buzzed again.
"Why? What's up?"
I exhaled and quickly explained everything-how I wanted to meet Ash, how Tiffany had inserted herself into the situation, and most importantly, how Nathan was the perfect distraction.
A brief pause.
Then came the reply. "Ahaaa. So someone's in love, huh? I see." My face heated up instantly. I clenched my jaw, already regretting asking for help.
"Shut up."
"Nah, this is adorable. But fine, I'll do that much for you. Can't wait to meet your girl."
I groaned, but despite myself, a grin tugged at the corner of my lips.
Tomorrow. 6 p.m. at Theo's.
And this time, I was ready.
To read further, search 'The Colour of His Shadow' on Kindle. Buy the book, or read it for free with Kindle Unlimited!