Elena—an effortlessly adored ballerina with a radiant smile and a carefully guarded heart—meets Alexander, a quiet, intimidating car enthusiast who keeps most of his world behind silence and scars. When an unexpected encounter at a house party leads to a shared moment of rare vulnerability, their lives begin to orbit one another in subtle, unspoken ways.

Neither of them is looking for connection. She’s used to affection without depth. He’s used to depth without company. But through stalled cars, shared glances in diners, and the kinds of texts that don’t mean much on the surface but say just enough, a quiet companionship begins to grow.

They’re just friends. At least that’s what they tell themselves.

But sometimes, the quiet speaks louder than anyone expects.

The diner's energy hadn't changed. Greasy air, clinking forks, the hum of conversation. But Elena's attention kept drifting.


She wasn't being obvious about it—just subtle glances, casual flicks of the eyes toward the booth near the window. But Camila noticed. Of course she did. Nothing got past her.


"Elena," Camila said under her breath, leaning in, "you've looked over there like three times. Who is that?"


Camila raised a brow. "Don't 'who' me. The guy with the piercings and the haunted grey eyes. Don't think I didn't catch that little exchange."


Elena rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "He's… someone I kind of know."


Camila smirked. "Is this the 'complicated' guy from earlier?"


Camila stole a glance. "Damn. Good name. He looks like someone who listens to vinyl and doesn't talk to people unless absolutely necessary."


"Because he keeps looking over here like he's checking his reflection in your face."


Elena rolled her eyes harder this time, but her pulse betrayed her. "We've already talked. A couple times. That's enough."


But then, as they were getting up to leave, Camila nudged her a little too hard. Hard enough that Elena staggered a step sideways—directly into Alexander's booth.


He looked up, a fry halfway to his mouth.


Elena caught herself on the edge of his table, blinking. "Sorry. Friend malfunction."


Mason snorted from across the booth. "Happens to the best of us."


Alexander gave a small nod, pulling his basket slightly out of the way. "You alright?"


"Yeah," Elena said, recovering. "Unless bruised dignity counts."


There was a brief pause. Then, quietly—almost like he didn't mean to say it—Alexander said:


Elena hesitated. Just long enough for it to feel like a choice.


Then she slid into the open seat across from him.


Camila shot her a subtle thumbs-up on her way out.


_________________________________________________________________________________________________


The silence between them was surprisingly… not awkward.


Alexander sipped his soda. Elena folded a napkin between her fingers.


"You come here a lot?" she asked, breaking the silence.


He nodded. "It's close. No one tries too hard. Feels honest."


"That's… kinda how I'd describe you."


He tilted his head, brow slightly raised.


"Not in a bad way," she clarified quickly. "You're just… direct. No show. Most people don't know how to do that."


"I don't have the energy to pretend," he said simply.


Then he looked at her a little more closely, like he was trying to read between the words. "You good now? After that night?"


Then nodded. "Getting there. It was a bad moment. You helped more than you probably realize."


Then, before it could get heavy, she gestured around the table. "So… this is your beater, but your fries are deluxe?"


A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "Even mechanics have standards."


And when their eyes met again, something shifted.


Chapter 9 - A Nudge