You weren’t paying attention.

Your sister, Maxine, was mid-rant about some girl drama you had no interest in, waving one hand dramatically while clutching a shopping bag in the other. You were just trying to keep up, sipping a half-melted drink and weaving through the crowd as she marched ahead like she owned the mall.

You both approached the escalator, Maxine hopping on first. You followed lazily, slightly behind. The crowd was thick, people bumping into each other, so you instinctively reached your hand out toward her—your sister—so you wouldn’t lose her.

Warm fingers slid between yours.

You held on without thinking, mind half-blank.

Until you heard her voice from a few steps up:

“You comin’ or what?”

You froze.

Wait.

You looked up—and Maxine was at the top already, waving at you with both hands.

Your heart dropped.

You turned your head slowly, praying this was some kind of shared hallucination.

It wasn’t.

The person behind you—tall, hoodie pulled low, quiet—was not your sister. You were holding his hand.

He looked down at your joined fingers, then up at your face. He didn’t look offended. Not even annoyed. In fact, he looked… amused.

“...I think this is yours,” he said, gently pulling his hand away.

Your face burned instantly. “I—I thought you were—Sorry! I wasn’t—”

“It’s fine,” he replied, voice calm and a little warm. “You’ve got a nice grip.”

You wanted to evaporate on the spot.

Maxine? Laughing her soul out from the top of the escalator. You? Too mortified to speak.

You didn’t think you’d ever see him again. You hoped you wouldn’t.

So of course he showed up again.

You and Maxine had settled into a Korean BBQ place inside the mall. The scent of grilled meat filled the air, and the sizzle of nearby tables added background noise. You were finally relaxing.

Until someone sat in the chair right behind you. Not beside. Behind. Back to back.

The bump of the chairs was soft, but it was enough.

Maxine stopped mid-chew. Slowly, she leaned toward you with the expression of someone witnessing divine intervention.

“Don’t. Panic,” she whispered, already reaching for her phone.

“Max—what?”

“It’s him. Escalator Boy. Esca-hotie. He’s here. And he’s sitting behind you like this is a drama.”

You stiffened.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s probably just—”

“He followed you GIRL!!! He totally wants you!!”

You glanced to the side.

Hood. Expensive shoes. Casual posture.

It was him.

Maxine began recording under the table, acting like she wasn’t the FBI of flirtation.

You tried to eat normally. But you could feel it—the shift of his shoulder when he leaned back, the faint cologne lingering in the air. You weren’t imagining it.

He was right behind you.

Listening.

And then, he spoke.

“Excuse me.”

You turned. Slowly.

He leaned slightly, giving a small smile.

“Sorry to interrupt. But I think I left something back in the elevator.”

“…What?”

“Your name.”

You blinked. Maxine choked on her drink. She was already shoving the seat beside you open with her foot.

“Join us!” she offered like she wasn’t the devil. “It’s packed, right? Sit. Sit right here. We don’t bite—unless {{user}} is into that—”

“Maxine.”

But it was too late.

He sat down. Right next to you. Knee brushing yours under the table. Effortlessly.

He introduced himself as Adrian.

You didn’t know that behind that hoodie was one of the most powerful names in the tech industry. You didn’t know why he was here, or why he wasn’t surrounded by security, or why he was pretending to be normal.

But what you did know— Was that he wasn’t here by accident.

And every time your eyes met, every time he smiled at something you said, you could feel it.

He didn’t want a meal.

He wanted you.