passing a glance, but ungracefully trips on the edge of the door frame and drops her latte.
“Oh God, I am so sorry. Did I get you—are you burned? I am such a klutz.”
Embarrassed, she tries to play it off by wiping her hands all over her pants as if it’s a napkin.
“Hey, it’s okay. We all have one of those days. Let me buy you another.”
“No—I couldn’t. It was my fault.”
“Doesn’t matter whose fault, let me brighten your day—please. I want to.”
“Okay.”
They walk over to the cashier together.
“I’m Jesse by the way.”
A long pause and still, she says nothing.
“This is the part where you are supposed to tell me your name.”
“Oh—right, I’m Hazel.”
“Nice to meet you Hazel.”
“You too—“
“Jesse.”
“Jesse.”
“Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t.”
After telling her order to the cashier she turns to Jesse,
“Thank you,” she pauses, “Jesse,” emphasizing his name.
He smiles bemused, “You are welcome,” he pauses like she did, “Hazel.”
They go their separate ways.
A few weeks later in the afternoon, Hazel hears a beautiful melody while on campus and follows it to a man playing guitar on a patch of grass with a friend sitting nearby. As she moves closer, she begins to recognize whose playing—it’s Jesse. He looks up, they lock eyes—there’s something powerful about the way he looks at her.
“You play?”