Skylar didn't technically need anything from the store.
Sure, her mom had mentioned running low on granola last night, but not in a "drop everything and go to Lenny's" kind of way. More like a "I should grab some this weekend" kind of way.
But here she was again, exactly three days after the mayonnaise incident, standing at the end of aisle three, pretending to care deeply about which brand of crunchy oat clusters had fewer carbs.
She spotted him right away - Evan, crouched in front of a lower shelf, restocking peanut butter this time. His name tag was still crooked. She smiled without meaning to.
"Hey," she said casually, as if she hadn't just spent ten minutes wandering the store pretending not to look for him.
He glanced up, surprised, then grinned. "Skylar. Back already? Don't tell me you burned through that dressing."
"I came for granola," she said, holding up a single bag like it was a totally reasonable reason to be there. "We ran out."
"Tragic. You okay? Did you have to eat regular cereal like a peasant?"
"Don't joke. It got dark."
He laughed and stood up, pushing his cart aside. "Let me guess - you're the kind of person who eats granola straight out of the bag while standing in the kitchen and thinking about life."
Skylar blinked. "How do you know that?"
"Because I also do that," he said, solemnly placing a hand on his chest. "Oat-based introspection is the purest form."
She shook her head, grinning. "You're weird."
"Thank you. I try."
They walked together toward the front of the store, his cart squeaking slightly with every third step.
"So," he said, leaning on the handle, "are you, like, still in school?"
"Senior. I graduate next month."
"Nice. I graduated last year. Took a gap year. Working here for now while I figure things out."
Skylar nodded. "That's cool. You don't seem like the type who'd enjoy being stuck in a fluorescent maze of snack foods."
Evan shrugged. "It has its moments. Especially when people show up pretending they urgently need granola."
Skylar rolled her eyes. "You're onto me."
"I'm flattered."
They stopped at the express checkout. Skylar hesitated. She didn't want the moment to end yet. Her hands fidgeted with the granola bag, crinkling the plastic.
Evan nodded toward it. "Want me to ring you up? Employee perks - light sarcasm and a 5% discount."
She smiled. "How could I say no?"
As he scanned the bag, their fingers brushed briefly when he handed it back. Just a second. Barely noticeable. But it left her stomach flipping like a badly made pancake.
"See you around, Skylar," he said as she turned to leave.
She tried to sound casual. "Maybe sooner than you think."
Outside, she opened the bag, grabbed a handful, and smiled to herself.
Oat-based introspection, indeed.
Skylar wasn't used to seeing people from grocery stores out in the wild.
Lenny's Market employees were like sitcom characters - tied to their setting, frozen in apron-clad familiarity. But there he was, standing on the sidewalk outside the café across from her school, no apron, no name tag - just Evan.
He wore a faded hoodie, dark jeans, and had a skateboard tucked under one arm. His hair was messy in a way that clearly wasn't trying to be. He hadn't seen her yet.
Skylar debated ducking behind a bush. Instead, she walked forward.
"Hey," she called, and instantly regretted how breathless she sounded, like she'd sprinted across the street instead of casually strolling like a cool, detached person.
Evan turned and lit up like she'd just said the exact thing he'd been hoping to hear.
"Skylar," he said, grinning. "Do you just follow me everywhere now?"
"You wish," she shot back, trying to match his ease.
"Okay, maybe I do a little," he added, then nodded at the café. "I was grabbing a muffin before my shift. What about you?"
"School. Boring stuff. Algebra-induced brain fog. I needed caffeine."
He held up a muffin in a napkin. "Banana nut. My weird comfort food."
"I respect that."
"You want to split it?"
She blinked. "Seriously?"
"I'm generous when under-caffeinated."
Skylar hesitated, then sat beside him on the edge of the planter box. He tore the muffin in half and handed her the bigger piece without even thinking.
"You always feed girls random pastries on the street?" she asked, grinning.
"Only the ones who nearly caused a condiment collapse in aisle nine."
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. The afternoon sun glinted off the shop windows, the street humming with distant voices and the occasional honk. It felt like a little bubble, like time had paused just for them.
"So," Evan said eventually, brushing crumbs from his hands, "what's the dream?"
"Huh?"
"Like - life. After school. What's the plan?"
Skylar bit her lip. "Art school, maybe. I like drawing. Mostly people, places. Stuff that feels too small to matter but kind of does."
He nodded slowly. "That's cool. I like that."
"What about you?" she asked.
Evan leaned back on his elbows, squinting up at the sky. "Still figuring it out. I thought about taking photography more seriously, but I don't know. I get stuck in my head too much."
Skylar looked at him, really looked. "You don't seem like someone who's stuck."
He turned to her, surprised by the quiet sincerity in her voice.
"Thanks," he said softly. "That kind of means more than I expected it to."
Their eyes met, and something buzzed under her skin - not nerves exactly, just a spark. Recognition. Like she was slowly waking up to something that had been growing in the background.
"Wanna walk for a bit?" he asked.
"Sure," she said, standing.
They left the muffin wrapper behind and wandered down the block, talking about nothing - and everything.
It wasn't a date. But it felt like the beginning of one.