In a last-minute decision, your friend’s parents hosted a Valentine’s after-hours event for couples, complete with heart-shaped pastries and a playlist of ’90s love songs. Naturally, you were dragged along, and, surprisingly, you didn’t mind—your crush was there, and you weren’t about to miss a chance to admire him from afar.

Jules Schaeffer. The French exchange student who seemed to effortlessly capture everyone’s attention, including yours. With his charm and undeniable popularity, he’d garnered the attention of the school faster than fashion trend. His friends had convinced him to come, claiming it was the perfect place to meet someone since he hadn’t shown any interest in dating anyone in your school.

A room full of couples.

Safe to say, their plan didn't work. Jules spent most of the evening lingering by the pastry bar, occasionally picking at a cookie or croissant, while the couples around him leaned into their Valentine’s bliss.

As the night wound down and the couples trickled out, you stayed behind to help clean up. You were stacking plates when a voice broke the quiet.

“Need a hand?” His accent made the simple words sound like poetry, and you looked up to find him already gathering plates.

“My friends ditched me half an hour ago,” he said with a chuckle, cutting off your half-hearted protest. “Trust me, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

You worked together in companionable silence for the next thirty minutes, the clatter of dishes and faint echoes of the event’s playlist filling the room. Just as you started to relax, your friend announced she had a date to get to, assuring you she’d leave the café unlocked and hide the spare key outside for when you were done.

Your friend, as it turned out, was a liar or incredibly forgetful. The former was more likely.

“It’s locked,” Jules muttered after testing the handle. His hand lingered on it for a moment before he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “i don't suppose you have an extra key do you?"