Their conversation lasted just under ten minutes.
Short, easy. No heavy topics. No confessions or probing questions. Just two people sitting across from each other, leaning into a shared pocket of calm in the middle of a buzzing diner.
Alexander didn't overshare.
Elena didn't oversmile.
It was simple.
And somehow… just enough.
When her phone buzzed with a ride notification, she glanced at it, then stood.
"That's my cue," she said, sliding out of the booth. "Thanks for letting me crash your table."
Alexander nodded, reaching for his drink. "No crash. Could've stayed longer."
That made her pause, just a second.
She didn't let it show too much—just tucked her hair behind her ear, thoughtful.
Then, without overthinking it, she pulled her phone out again.
"Hey," she said casually, "can I get your number? Just in case my friend's car dies again or I need emergency automotive wisdom."
He looked up at her. His expression didn't change much, but there was something in his eyes—quiet approval, maybe. Or maybe it was just recognition.
Like he'd been waiting for her to ask.
He rattled it off without hesitation.
She typed it in, saved it under "Alexander W. (Car Whisperer)".
He raised a brow when he saw the name. "That's what you're going with?"
"You can earn a better title if you save my life a few more times," she teased.
"I'll think about it," he said, half-smiling.
And that was that.
No hugs. No extra goodbyes.
Just a nod as she walked off into the dusk-lit parking lot.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
That night, Elena sat on her bed in her dorm, legs curled under her blanket, hair still damp from a shower. Her phone was on her chest, screen dimming after a moment of inactivity.
She stared at it for a while.
Not waiting.
Not exactly.
But when the screen lit up again, her stomach flipped just a little.
Alexander:
> Glad your ride showed. Civic would've never made it.
Tell Camila her shoulder check was subtle.
Elena grinned.
Elena:
> I'll let her know her stealth tactics need work.
Thanks again. Fries and conversation—both solid.
There was a pause.
Then:
Alexander:
> Anytime. Not just for car emergencies.
Or bad fries.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
He stared at the screen after he sent that.
Nothing flirty. Nothing loaded.
Just… open.
And she replied a minute later.
Elena:
> I'll keep that in mind.
Simple.
He locked his phone and let it rest face down on the nightstand.
Still, a part of him kept listening for it to buzz again.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Days passed. They didn't text constantly.
But often enough to notice.
A meme from her.
A photo of a busted spark plug from him, captioned "you think this guy's okay?"
Her response:
> Looks like he needs therapy and a nap.
His:
> Same.
It was casual. Surface-level.
But something about it lingered.
She'd glance at her phone more than she used to.
He'd catch himself thinking about her in the quiet between classes or under the hood.
And neither of them said it.
But they were both wondering the same thing:
What is this, really?
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Elena didn't like him. Not like that.
She wasn't trying to start something.
But she liked talking to him.
The ease. The space. The fact that he never pushed.
And she'd be lying if she said there wasn't something in the way he looked at her—like he saw through her bullshit without trying to dismantle it.
She wasn't used to that.
And it scared her a little.
But it also made her curious.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alexander didn't want anything.
He wasn't chasing her.
But she stayed in his head longer than anyone else had in a while.
The way she listened. The way she cracked jokes when things got quiet. The way she looked tired sometimes and didn't hide it.
She was real.
And he wasn't used to real showing up in diners and asking for his number like it was nothing.
So he let it be.
Just friends.
Just texts.
Just almost something.
And he was okay with that.
For now.