The bar wasn't quiet, but it wasn't loud either. Just a low hum of voices and glass clinking, the occasional burst of laughter from the table near the jukebox. The lights were dim—half by design, half because the bulbs hadn't been changed in years—and the air smelled like old wood, whiskey, and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke from the patio outside.
Theo sat alone at the far end of the bar, a glass of bourbon in front of him, untouched. He ran his finger around the rim in slow, aimless circles, eyes fixed on the dark woodgrain beneath. Another night, another drink, another way to feel like he wasn't just watching life happen from the outside.
He almost didn't notice when Jamie walked in.
But the shift was subtle. The door creaked open, the cold night air rushed in behind him, and somehow, it felt like the whole room exhaled. Jamie had that effect. Quiet confidence, that impossible mix of laid-back charm and something dangerous smoldering just under the surface.
He had dark curls damp from the mist outside, a leather jacket zipped halfway up, and eyes that scanned the room like they already knew where to land.
And they landed on Theo.
Theo looked up, startled by the intensity of it. Their eyes held, just long enough to make Theo forget how to breathe, before Jamie gave the smallest smile—barely there—and started walking over.
"Mind if I sit?" Jamie asked, already sliding onto the stool beside him.
Theo blinked. "Sure. Yeah. Go ahead."
Jamie flagged the bartender with two fingers and nodded toward Theo's drink. "Same for me."
They sat in silence for a minute, and Theo could feel the warmth radiating off Jamie's arm, so close but not touching. He didn't look over. He couldn't. Not yet.
"I've seen you here before," Jamie said, voice low, smooth. "But you don't really talk to anyone, do you?"
Theo gave a short laugh. "Guess not."
Jamie turned, just slightly, resting his elbow on the bar so he could look at him fully. "You look like someone with a lot to say."
Theo finally met his gaze. "I'm better at listening."
Jamie smiled again, slower this time. "Good. I like to talk when I'm nervous."
"You nervous now?"
"Little bit."
There it was—that thrum of electricity in the air, that moment where everything could tilt in one direction or the other. Theo's pulse was loud in his ears.
"Why?"
Jamie leaned in slightly, enough that Theo could smell his cologne—something warm and woody, like pine and pepper. "Because you're looking at me like you see right through me. And I'm not sure I mind."
Theo turned his body just enough to close the distance between them, his voice almost a whisper. "What if I do?"
Jamie didn't answer with words. His eyes dropped briefly to Theo's mouth, then flicked back up. Something unspoken passed between them—heat, curiosity, the kind of question you ask with your body before your mind can catch up.
"I don't usually do this," Theo murmured.
Jamie tilted his head. "Which part?"
"Letting someone in."
Jamie's voice was soft. "Then let me be the first."