Oliver tries to smile in front of the mirror, and grimaces. How is Robin able to smile so effortlessly? Oliver knows how to be broody for the camera when needed (thank goodness he’s not on the more public side of the company), but he doesn’t want to seem like some angsty university student right now.

He sighs. It doesn’t matter anyway. Robin seems like the nice sort that smiles at all his customers, no matter how cringey. He slips on his sunnies, and grimaces. It makes him look suspicious, especially with his black jacket. With a groan, he takes them off again.

He leaves the drinks cup behind, heading to the dessert shop on a Sunday afternoon on purpose, when Melbourne’s not nearly as busy.

Oliver waits outside for a bit, making sure it’s not crowded, before heading in.

“Good afternoon, Oliver,” Robin greets.

Oliver can’t look at the smile for too long (he doesn’t want to think about it). Instead he heads over to the cakes counter. “How’re you going?”

“Good, thanks, You?”

“Good. The matcha cake is really popular?” There’s the label, but no cake.

“Yes,” Robin says with a hint of chagrin. “I’ve been thinking of opening up a preorder for cakes, because there are some customers who like to buy the entire cake.”

“What was it that you were making the other day?”

Robin purses his lips. “Persimmon cheesecake, I believe.” He points to a pale orange cheesecake topped with orange-coloured fruit slices.

“Persimmons?”

“You’ve never had them?”

Oliver leans forward, and smiles charmingly. “Better late than never?”

Robin blinks, and then his eyes dip away. “Sure. If you don’t like it, I’ll swap it with something else, free of charge. Do you want to eat in?”

Given that there is space at the single table, Oliver agrees.

Robin has long, slender fingers, Oliver realises as Robin carefully transfers a slice of persimmon cheesecake to a pale speckled plate. It matches the rest of Robin’s tall, slim figure.

Oliver doesn’t know if he’s disappointed when another customer comes in. He cuts through the cheesecake with his spoon and oooh.

Ooohhh. The cheesecake is not overly sweet. It’s smooth and light and melts in his mouth, and there’s this unfamiliar flavour—persimmon? Slices of persimmon are arranged on the top—Oliver scoops a bit of it with the cheesecake. The persimmon is sweeter than the cake, and just as rich, albeit in a different way that Oliver can’t put his finger on. It’s almost like mango, but silkier.

Oliver bites back a moan, and goes in for another bite. He tries to savour it as much as possible, but good things come to an end. He looks up, finally, and flushes when he realises Robin’s watching him with a fond smile on his face.

“So you liked it,” Robin says.

“Kids these days are so lucky,” Oliver grumbles. He carries the plate and spoon back to the counter. “They get to grow up with this, instead of my mum’s dry vanilla cake.”

Robin laughs—it’s light and airy and makes Oliver’s chest expand with something.

“I’m sure your mother tried her best.”

Oliver finds himself smiling back. “I’ll have to buy her a slice one day, just to see her face.”

Robin smiles back. “Is your mum adventurous?”

“...No,” Oliver deflates.

Robin gives him a reassuring smile. “If you can find out your mum’s preferences, I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

Oliver’s weak in the knees. With his smile, Robin might even be able to charm his mum.

...What is Oliver thinking? Robin might not be attracted to men, anyway. (Oliver had looked for pride stickers around the shop, but there are none.)

—and not that it matters! Robin’s the shop owner, and Oliver’s a customer. It’s a completely professional relationship.

“—Oliver? Is this anything else you’ll like to-go?”

Damn it, Oliver! he berates himself. “Nah, that’s fine. I’ll see again soon.”

Hoping he’s not as red as he feels, Oliver leaves the shop, the taste of persimmons still lingering on his lips, and Robin’s fingers on his mind.