Lucas paused, towel in hand. "Max and I knew each other when they moved to my place. We lived in the same Estate —he was the extrovert who always had friends over, I was the quiet guy who loves being alone. Although I had few friends. We kind of clicked, and became friends after a while. And since then we've been inseparable."
Claire nodded thoughtfully. "You always seemed so laid-back about everything."
"Only because I've always had my people—people worth laying back for." He smiled at her, and Claire felt both warmed and flustered.
The oven timer dinged. Lucas opened the door, and a wave of toasty, herby aroma filled the kitchen. He transferred the crispy crackers to a cooling rack.
"Moment of truth," he said, handing Claire a heart-shaped cracker.
She bit into it: light, flaky, with a delightful hint of rosemary. Her eyes widened. "Okay, I retract my earlier statement. These are phenomenal."
Lucas's grin was infectious. "Told you."
They sat at the small kitchen table, crunching their handiwork. The easy conversation returned—favorite travel destinations, whether Claire would ever forgive Emma for signing her up for the pancake class in the first place, and Lucas's latest D&D campaign mishaps.
Mid-crunch, Claire glanced at Lucas. "I never thought I'd enjoy cooking… or hanging out in a kitchen this much."
Lucas paused with a cracker halfway to his mouth. "Me neither. But I'm glad you came."
Claire met his gaze, her heart fluttering. "Me too."
Outside, Emma and Max returned from the market, arms laden with fresh produce. Emma's eyes lit up at the sight of the cooling rack, and Max called out, "Did someone say snacks?"
Lucas and Claire shared a triumphant look—partners in culinary crime, if only for a morning. And as the four friends gathered around the table, laughter and crumbs flying, Claire realized that sometimes the best recipes are the ones that bring people together—one crunchy, herb-scented cracker at a time.
The following Saturday brought an unexpected downpour. Thick, silver rain streaked the windows of Lucas and Max's apartments like nature had suddenly decided to rinse the city clean. Claire sat cross-legged on the couch, wrapped in one of Max's giant hoodies she'd borrowed out of necessity when Emma insisted they come over—despite the weather.
Emma and Max had retreated to the kitchen again, attempting what they called a "brunch fusion experiment"—which, judging by the sounds of distress and laughter coming from the stove, was not going well.
Meanwhile, Lucas walked in from his room with a steaming mug of coffee and handed it to Claire.
"Americano. Figured you'd need backup."
She smiled as she took it. "You're a mind reader."
He sat down next to her, a little closer than last time. "No, just a decent observer. You only fidget with your sleeves when you're anxious or bored. Or both."
Lucas paused, towel in hand. "Max and I knew each other when they moved to my place. We lived in the same Estate —he was the extrovert who always had friends over, I was the quiet guy who loves being alone. Although I had few friends. We kind of clicked, and became friends after a while. And since then we've been inseparable.
Claire raised an eyebrow. "What else have you observed?"
Lucas smirked. "That you always finish your coffee, every last sip. You prefer coffee over other teas. And that you're surprisingly good at remembering the names of minor characters in fantasy books, even if you pretend you don't care."
Her smirk faded into something softer, more surprised.
"I didn't think you noticed things like that."
Lucas leaned back, resting his arm along the couch behind her. "I notice a lot when it comes to you."
The room was quiet except for the patter of rain and the occasional distant curse from Max. Claire took a sip of her coffee, buying herself a moment.
"You know," she said finally, "I didn't expect any of this. When Emma asked me to come to that pancake class, I figured I'd be the bored friend scrolling on my phone for two hours."
Lucas chuckled. "And instead you ended up mastering crackers."
"And meeting you."
The words were out before she fully meant them to be. Lucas looked at her, his expression changing—not startled, not smug, just real.
"I'm glad you did," he said, voice low. "Meeting you… I don't know. It made the weeks feel less… predictable."
Claire turned to face him more fully. Her heart pounded in a way that wasn't uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. There was something about Lucas—his calm, his warmth, his subtle humor—that drew her in, slowly and steadily like gravity.
He hesitated, searching her eyes. "Can I say something slightly risky?"
She nodded, barely trusting her voice.
"I like you, Claire. Not just because you make cracker jokes and critique my grilled cheese. But because… you make things feel lighter. Even when you're pretending to be unimpressed."
Claire laughed, a quiet, surprised sound. "I was trying so hard not to like you."
Lucas tilted his head. "How's that going?"
"Horribly," she said, smiling. "You're annoyingly hard not to like."
"I like you too, Lucas," she said, carefully. "More than I expected to."
"But?" he asked, reading her tone.
She nodded slowly. "But I'm not ready. I've done the 'jump into something because it feels good' thing before. And it doesn't always end well. I don't want to ruin something before it even has a chance to be anything."
Lucas was quiet, processing.
"I get that," he said, finally. "Really. I'm not in a rush. We don't have to call this anything. I just… wanted to be honest."