I wasn’t expecting it.

I had just ordered my usual, already reaching for my wallet, when he looked at me—really looked at me—and said,

“What’s your name?”

I froze.

It wasn’t like I’d never imagined him saying it. Hell, I’d spent too much time wondering what it would sound like, if it would roll off his tongue easily or if he’d hesitate like I do every time I write these damn notes. But hearing it out loud—direct, casual, like it was nothing—knocked me off balance.

“What?” I asked, like I hadn’t heard him perfectly the first time.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and I couldn’t tell if he was amused or just being polite. “Your name,” he repeated. “I mean, you’re here all the time. Figured it was normal to ask.”

Normal. Right.

It made sense. Completely logical. No reason to read into it.

“Jaden,” I answered, watching his expression like I’d find something hidden in it.

He nodded, letting my name settle between us like it was just another detail, another transaction, nothing more. And then he moved on, already ringing me up, already turning toward the next customer.

It wasn’t until I sat at my usual table that I realized—

I never asked for his.

I groan quietly, dragging a hand down my face, tapping my pen against my notepad. Great job, me.

I exhale and jot down my next note.

"You finally asked for my name today. I was caught off guard. You said it’s normal to ask regulars. Makes sense. Except I forgot to ask for yours. Great job, me."

- J

I press the note onto the table beside my cup, push back my chair, and stand.

As I head for the door, I steal a quick glance toward the counter.

He’s busy. Focused. But something about the way his fingers linger on the register makes me wonder—

Is he waiting for me to ask?