She had officially decided winter made everyone uglier.

The fluorescent lights didn’t help either.

Her first job sounded fine on paper—local supermarket in a small Pennsylvania town, saving money for summer, proving to herself she could be responsible. In reality, it meant sore feet, dry hands, and customers who acted like the world would end if their coupon was expired.

And today? Today was one of those days.

She’d fought with her sister that morning about the mess in their shared bathroom. Again. She’d left the house annoyed, hair shoved into a low ponytail, hoodie two sizes too big, convinced she looked terrible. By the time her shift rolled around, she was operating on pure irritation.

That’s when the group of guys walked in.

Great, she thought. Just what I need.

Groups of guys were the worst—loud, dumb jokes, pretending not to know how lines worked. She clocked them from her register: four of them, winter jackets, snow on their shoes. One of them—annoyingly—was cute. Tall, dark hoodie, baseball cap pulled low.

She looked away. Not her problem.

They lined up at her register anyway.

The loud one—Oliver, she realized after hearing his name yelled—was already joking with the others. She scanned items with a flat expression, bracing herself.

Then the cute one stepped forward.

“Hey,” he said, genuinely. “How’s it going?”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… good. You?”

“Cold,” he smiled. “But good.”

His voice was calm. Polite. Not performative. He didn’t crowd the counter, didn’t make stupid comments. He even thanked her when she handed him the receipt.

“Have a good shift,” he added.

She watched them leave, confused.

Only then did it click.

Walker Scobell.

In Pennsylvania, everyone knew who he was. Not in a screaming-fans way—just a yeah, that kid from here way. She felt her stomach drop a little.

Of course.

She shook it off. Just a customer. That was it.

Except the next day—same shift, same gray winter light—he came back.

Alone.

She noticed immediately. No Oliver. No group. Just him, holding a basket with a few things: cereal, apples, a frozen pizza.

He lined up at her register again.

She tried to look normal. Failed.

“Hey,” he said, smiling like this wasn’t awkward at all. “You survived yesterday.”

She snorted before she could stop herself. “Barely.”

He laughed, softer this time. “Yeah, this place seems… intense.”

“You have no idea.”

She scanned his items, fingers less stiff than yesterday. “So… forgot something?”

“Maybe,” he said, then shrugged. “Or maybe I just needed groceries again.”

She raised an eyebrow. “In one day?”

He grinned, a little sheepish. “Okay, maybe I just… hoped you’d be working.”

Her heart skipped. Just once.

“Well,” she said, trying to sound casual, “you got lucky.”

“I tend to,” he replied, meeting her eyes.

He took his receipt, hesitated. “I’m Walker, by the way.”

“I know,” she said before she could stop herself, then immediately groaned. “I mean—everyone here does.”

He laughed, relieved. “Yeah. Fair.”

“I’m {{user}}.” she told him her name.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, like it actually mattered. “Maybe I’ll… forget something again tomorrow.”