Chapter Text
Jayce exhaled sharply through his nose, the kind of breath that wasn’t quite a sigh but close enough. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and glanced again at the front of the line, where some guy was still debating between oat milk and almond like he was solving a math problem.
The smell of espresso teased him, rich and warm and just out of reach. He checked his watch. Again. The minute hand hadn’t moved.
A teenager ahead of him took out her phone, snapped a picture of the pastry display, and said “Aesthetic.”
Jayce rubbed his temple.
The barista laughed at something the customer said. Jayce didn’t hear it, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t funny.
“All I want is a damn coffee,” Jayce muttered under his breath.
“Right?” came a voice behind him—warm, low, and threaded with just enough humor to feel like a secret shared.
Jayce turned.
The man behind him was leaning slightly on a sleek cane, his other hand tucked casually into the pocket of a long wool coat. He had a slight tilt to his posture, confident but relaxed, and tousled brown curls that framed a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. But it was his eyes that hit hardest—amber, impossibly bright, like honey caught in sunlight. Jayce blinked, forgetting how to be annoyed.
Or speak.
The man smiled, just enough to show a dimple in his left cheek. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your brooding,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.
Jayce opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Then said, with all the grace of a man struck dumb by attraction, “Uh… yeah.”
Smooth.
Jayce cleared his throat, trying to shake the sudden static in his brain. Get it together.
“Lines shouldn’t be this existential,” he said, trying to sound casual.
The man chuckled, shifting his weight onto his cane. “You’d think ordering coffee wouldn’t require a crisis of identity.”
Jayce smiled, just a little. “I mean, I came in knowing what I wanted. Now I’m questioning my entire morning routine.”
“Well,” the man said, tilting his head, “at least you haven’t reached the ‘do I even like coffee?’ stage. That’s when it gets dangerous.”
Jayce huffed a laugh. “Dangerous territory, for sure.”
They stood there for a few moments in the soft hum of the coffee shop—espresso machines hissing, low indie music playing from overhead speakers, the occasional clink of cups, and muted chatter. It was oddly easy. Comfortable, even.
Then, like a record skipping, the barista called out, “Next!”
Jayce blinked. It was his turn.
He glanced back at the man, who gave him a slight nod and the ghost of a smile.
Jayce stepped up to the counter, still half-aware of the stranger standing behind him.
“Just a medium drip. Black,” he told the barista, the words automatic. His mind was somewhere else—back in that amber gaze, the easy smile, the way his voice had slipped under Jayce’s skin like heat from a sunbeam.
He paid, took his receipt, and shuffled off to the pickup area. The coffee shop was packed, but he managed to snag a small table near the window. He sat, staring at the scuffed wood grain of the tabletop, fingers tapping an uneven rhythm.
He barely registered the clatter of mugs, the soft grind of beans. His eyes were focused on nothing in particular.
Who was that guy?
Not that it mattered. People came and went in places like this every day. A smile, a shared complaint, a moment—that’s all it was.
But still.
Jayce ran a hand through his hair, annoyed at himself. Get over it. You don’t even know his name.
And yet, his brain kept looping: the cane, the curls, the laugh. Those eyes. Like they saw more than they should. Like they’d caught Jayce standing there, impatient and prickly—and didn’t seem to mind.
The barista called his name. He didn’t hear it at first.
“Jayce? Medium drip?”
He blinked, stood too fast, and made his way to the counter. His fingers brushed the warm cup, but his thoughts stayed behind, still seated at that table with a stranger who hadn’t even told him his name.
The whiteboard marker squeaked as Jayce scribbled an equation across the front of the lecture hall. Behind him, the murmur of typing, half-whispers, and rustling notebooks filled the air like static. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. It was all familiar. Routine.
“And if you adjust for thermal expansion—” he paused, glancing at the diagram he’d drawn, “—you’ll see that the molecular behavior shifts in response to external pressure, not just heat.”
A few heads nodded. One student yawned without even pretending to hide it.
Jayce turned back to the board, but instead of focusing on polymers or stress limits or whatever he'd been talking about five seconds ago, his mind wandered.
To him.
That stranger from the coffee shop.
Jayce blinked at his own handwriting. He’d misspelled “expansion.” Twice.
You don’t even know his name. He’s just some guy. Some really, really attractive guy with incredible eyes and—
“Dr. Talis?” one student piped up. “Did you mean to write ‘evaporation’ here?”
Jayce snapped out of it. “No—uh. No. That’s a mistake. Good catch.”
He quickly erased the word, ignoring the tiny smirk from the front row.
As he tried to get the lecture back on track, he couldn’t help but feel a little unmoored. He’d met thousands of people—students, colleagues, professionals, parents—and yet a brief, nameless exchange in a coffee shop was the one thing short-circuiting his brain all day.
Jayce straightened his posture, trying to regain his authority. “Alright,” he said, more firmly. “Let’s move on to phase transitions. I expect you all to remember this part for the quiz next week.”
Still, even as he launched back into his lecture, one part of his brain was stuck wondering…
Would he even recognize me if we met again?
The little tapas place was loud and warm, filled with clinking glasses, dim lighting, and the smell of roasted garlic and rosemary. Jayce sat across from Caitlyn and Vi, poking at a half-eaten skewer of grilled vegetables while they argued—playfully, of course—over who had eaten more of the olives.
“I’m just saying,” Vi said, grinning as she stole one off Caitlyn’s plate, “you weren’t even touching them.”
“They were arranged,” Caitlyn said dryly, sipping her wine. “Artfully.”
Vi snorted. “Yeah, well, they’re arranged in my stomach now.”
Jayce gave a faint chuckle but didn’t chime in.
Caitlyn noticed first. She glanced at him, then nudged his ankle under the table. “You’ve been quiet all night. You okay?”
Jayce blinked and realized he’d been staring blankly at the candle in the center of the table. “What? Oh—yeah. Sorry. Just spaced out.”
Vi tilted her head, curious. “Spaced out like thinking about work, or spaced out like someone is on your mind?”
Jayce rolled his eyes, but the flush in his cheeks gave him away.
Caitlyn narrowed hers. “You’ve been doing this for, what, two weeks now? Ever since you met that guy at the coffee shop?”
Jayce stiffened slightly, caught. “I didn’t say anything about a guy.”
“You didn’t have to,” Caitlyn said, smirking. “I know that look. You’ve been mentally elsewhere since that day.”
Vi leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Okay, spill. What happened?”
Jayce hesitated, pushing his fork around the plate. “It was nothing. Just… a moment. I said something snarky about the line, and this guy behind me agreed. We talked. Sort of. No names. He was—” He stopped, then sighed. “He was… striking. And smart. And his eyes—”
“Oh my god,” Vi said with a grin. “You’re gone.”
“I’m not,” Jayce said quickly. “It was two minutes of small talk. But ever since then, it’s like my brain just… drifts.”
Caitlyn smiled gently. “Sometimes two minutes is enough to mess with your wiring.”
Jayce looked down at his hands. “It’s stupid. I don’t even know if I’d recognize him again.”
Vi tossed an olive in her mouth. “You would. People like that—you don’t forget.”
Jayce smiled faintly, but said nothing.
Jayce stood in the middle of the produce section, holding a basket with only a single carton of eggs in it, staring blankly at a pile of zucchini. His list was on his phone, somewhere. He couldn’t remember if he even looked at it.
Do I have bread? I think I bought some last week. But maybe I froze it? Wait, did I freeze it?
He rubbed the back of his neck, brow furrowed. The hum of the store surrounded him—quiet pop music, a crackling loudspeaker announcement, the beeping of distant registers—but it all blurred together. His thoughts drifted again, uninvited, toward amber eyes and a quiet laugh.
Two weeks. Still thinking about a stranger in line. This is ridiculous.
He reached for a head of broccoli, not really sure why, when a voice beside him said, “You’re either very passionate about produce… or extremely lost.”
Jayce froze.
That voice.
That accent.
He turned slowly.
And there he was—curls a little messier this time, dressed in a soft button-up and jeans, a canvas tote over one shoulder, and leaning lightly on the same sleek cane. His lips curled in that familiar, amused half-smile.
Jayce’s heart stopped. Then kicked back to life.
“I—uh.” Jayce blinked. “Wow. Okay.”
The man raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Good to see I still have the power to stun.”
Jayce let out a breath that turned into a laugh. “You… you’re real.”
“I try to be,” the man said, eyes twinkling. “Though if I’m haunting your grocery trips, I might need to apologize.”
Jayce shook his head, a grin tugging at his mouth. “No. No, you’re fine. I just—I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“Well,” the man said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder, “lucky you. Looks like the zucchini gods have a sense of humor.”
Jayce laughed again, more freely this time, and for the first time in two weeks, he didn’t feel like he was drifting anymore.
Jayce shifted the basket to his other hand, suddenly feeling lighter than he had all week. He gestured vaguely to the broccoli in his other hand. “I feel like I should come up with a clever reason for standing here for ten minutes, but honestly I forgot why I came down this aisle.”
The man smiled again—gentle, teasing. “Maybe fate brought you to the cruciferous vegetables. Who knows?”
Jayce chuckled, then tilted his head, heart thudding just a little harder. “You know… we never got to names last time. I’m Jayce.”
There was a pause. Just half a beat.
Then the man’s smile softened, like something clicked into place.
“Viktor.”
Jayce tried it out in his mind. Viktor. It suited him. Elegant but grounded. The kind of name you remembered, just like the man himself.
“Well, Viktor,” Jayce said, feeling a flutter in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time, “since fate has apparently decided to schedule our next encounter in the grocery store, any chance you’d want to, I don’t know… help me remember what I actually need for the week?”
Viktor’s eyes sparkled. “Only if you promise not to get lost in the broccoli again.”
Jayce grinned. “No promises.”
And just like that, they fell into step together—laughter blending with the soft hum of the store—as if this moment had been waiting for them both.
They strolled past the lettuce and into the fruit section, Jayce trying to act casual while stealing occasional glances at Viktor.
“So,” Viktor said, examining a bunch of bananas like it held the meaning of life, “are you always this intense about vegetables, or was I just lucky enough to catch you in deep thought?”
Jayce laughed. “Honestly? I was thinking about my class schedule. And, embarrassingly, also about—” He paused. “Okay, I was thinking about you.”
Viktor looked up with a surprised smile. “That’s very forward of you.”
Jayce rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. My brain’s had this weird habit of wandering ever since the coffee shop.”
Viktor tossed a couple bananas into his basket. “I’ll take that as a compliment, then.”
They turned down another aisle, the cool air of the dairy section making Jayce shiver slightly.
“So,” Viktor said, “what do you teach?”
“Materials science,” Jayce replied. “Which sounds a lot more impressive than it is, depending on who’s asking.”
“I think it sounds appropriately intimidating,” Viktor said. “I’m guessing there’s a lot of equations involved.”
Jayce groaned. “Too many. And half my students pretend not to know what a calculator is until the week before finals.”
Viktor smirked. “Sounds about right. I used to tutor when I was in school. It was mostly physics. Lots of staring into the void and pretending friction doesn’t exist.”
Jayce laughed. “God, yes. Students think it’s all formulas until the real-world variables show up.”
They rounded a corner and paused by the bread. Viktor reached up for a loaf, wincing slightly as he stretched. Jayce instinctively moved to help, but Viktor had already caught it.
“You okay?” Jayce asked, eyes flicking to the cane.
“Yeah,” Viktor said with a soft shrug. “Old injury. It gets cranky if I overdo it.”
Jayce nodded, not pushing further. “Well, if you ever need a personal grocery sherpa, I’m surprisingly good at reaching high shelves.”
Viktor raised an eyebrow. “That’s a generous offer. I might take you up on that.”
They stood there for a moment—quiet, easy.
Jayce found himself smiling again. “You know, this is probably the most pleasant shopping trip I’ve had in months.”
“I’m honored,” Viktor said, and this time his voice was quieter, warmer. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
Jayce tossed a box of cereal into his basket, then glanced sideways at Viktor as they moved down the cereal and snack aisle.
“Alright,” Jayce said, “important question: are you a sweet or savory breakfast person?”
Viktor made a thoughtful noise. “Depends on the day. But if I had to pick? Savory. Eggs. Toast. Maybe some feta, if I’m feeling fancy.”
Jayce gave a mock-impressed nod. “Solid choice. I respect that.”
“You?”
“Oh, I’m a disaster,” Jayce said. “I’ll make black coffee and then eat half a cookie I forgot was in my coat pocket. That’s breakfast.”
Viktor let out a short laugh. “Very academic of you.”
“What can I say? I’m a man of structure.”
Viktor turned to him, smiling. “Is that what you call crumbling under caffeine and sugar?”
Jayce laughed harder than he meant to. “God, you’re dangerous.”
They kept walking, past chips and granola bars, not quite ready to say goodbye.
“You live nearby?” Jayce asked, grabbing a jar of pasta sauce mostly to keep his hands busy.
“A few blocks away,” Viktor said. “I usually walk here when the weather’s nice.”
Jayce nodded. “I drive. Too many grocery bags and too few arms.”
“Ah,” Viktor said with a teasing grin, “so that’s what the high shelf offer was about. Recruiting help.”
Jayce grinned back. “Guilty.”
They stood near the self-checkout for a moment, neither of them quite moving.
“I should probably—” Viktor gestured toward the lanes.
“Yeah, me too,” Jayce said, but neither of them stepped forward right away.
There was a pause—just long enough to feel charged.
Then Viktor said quietly, “I’m really glad I ran into you again, Jayce.”
Jayce felt something soft and sharp twist in his chest. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
And walked side by side to check out.
Jayce’s mind was already racing ahead, spinning through every possible way this could go—should I ask him now? No, wait, too soon. Maybe after we leave? What if he says no? What if it’s awkward?
Viktor glanced at him, eyebrow raised in amusement. “So… would you want to grab coffee sometime?”
Jayce blinked, caught completely off guard.
Did he just—
His brain sputtered to a halt. Time seemed to slow, the grocery store noises fading away as his mind ran a marathon of scenarios.
“Coffee?” Jayce repeated, voice a little too high, eyes wide.
Viktor smiled, steady and warm. “Yeah. Coffee. Or tea. Or whatever you want. No pressure.”
Jayce’s heart hammered against his ribs as he forced himself to breathe. The swirling chaos of overthinking crashed down.
He’s asking me out.
And suddenly, it was just… simple.
Jayce smiled—real, unguarded, relieved. “I’d like that. I’d really like that.”
Viktor’s eyes crinkled with a grin. “Good. Because I’m buying.”
Jayce laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, that settles it.”
The tension melted away, replaced by something easy and bright.
Jayce’s fingers trembled slightly as he pulled out his phone while walking out of the grocery store. He tapped Caitlyn’s name and pressed it to his ear.
“Hey, Cait,” he said, voice bright, almost shaky with excitement. “You won’t believe what just happened.”
“Jayce! Spill! What’s going on?” Caitlyn’s voice was instantly curious.
He grinned, leaning against the car as he talked. “I ran into Viktor—the guy from the coffee shop. We ended up shopping together, and then… he asked me out for coffee. And I said yes.”
There was a pause on the other end, then a whoop. “No way! Jayce, that’s amazing! I told you this was gonna happen.”
Jayce laughed. “Yeah, well, I didn’t even have time to overthink it this time.”
Just then, from the passenger seat, Vi’s voice cut through, loud and teasing. “Wait, Viktor asked you out? Finally, someone with some courage!”
Jayce’s eyes widened. “Vi! You’re eavesdropping.”
Vi rolled her eyes, grinning. “I’m invested in this romance now. Can’t let you hide all the juicy details.”
“Fine,” Jayce said, shaking his head with a smile. “But you better keep it to yourself.”
“Too late,” Vi shot back, already laughing.
Caitlyn chuckled through the phone. “Sounds like you’ve got an audience.”
Jayce smiled, warmth spreading through him. “Yeah. Guess I do.”