Mason Hale

He only stopped by the bakery because he was running early—something that almost never happened. The place smelled like warm sugar and fresh bread, and he was already eyeing the last chocolate croissant when he noticed someone else reaching for it at the exact same moment. Her hand brushed his, light and quick, but enough to make him look up. She had headphones on, cheeks a little pink from the cold, and when she realized what happened, she gave him this small, apologetic smile that hit him harder than it should have. Then you ask if he wanted to split it