ep 1 first encounter

The first time Noah met Oliver, it was past midnight, and the city was humming with life.

Noah, twenty-three and fresh out of university, was delivering takeout on his bike when he got lost in an unfamiliar part of town. That’s when he spotted him—a man in his late thirties, leaning against a sleek black car, cigarette in hand, looking like he belonged in an old noir film.

“You look lost,” the man observed, his voice smooth and low.

Noah hesitated. “Uh—yeah. I think my GPS is messing with me.”

The man chuckled, tapping ash onto the pavement. “Where are you trying to go?”

Noah told him, and the man—Oliver, as he later introduced himself—gave him directions effortlessly, as if he knew every street by heart.

“Thanks,” Noah said, about to pedal away.

But Oliver smirked. “You deliver here often?”

Noah shook his head. “First time.”

Oliver exhaled smoke, watching him. “Pity.”

Something about the way he said it made Noah’s pulse quicken. He should have left then, but instead, he asked, “Why?”

Oliver’s gaze lingered, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Because I think I’d like seeing you around.”

And with that, Noah rode off—heart pounding—knowing he’d probably find an excuse to come back.

Noah told himself he wasn’t going back for him. He wasn’t that kind of guy.

But two nights later, he found himself in the same neighborhood, takeout bag in hand, pretending it was just another delivery.

Except this time, Oliver was already there, leaning against his car like he’d been waiting.

“Lost again?” Oliver asked, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

Noah huffed, trying to act indifferent. “Just working.”

Oliver nodded toward the bag. “Who’s the lucky customer?”

Noah glanced at the receipt. “Uh… 42B.”

Oliver smirked. “Shame. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve ordered something.”

Noah felt his face warm. He wasn’t sure if Oliver was flirting or just messing with him, but there was something about him—his effortless confidence, the way he seemed completely unbothered by the world—that made Noah feel both intrigued and wary.

“You always hang around here?” Noah asked, shifting his weight.

Oliver took a slow drag of his cigarette. “I own the bar around the corner.”

Noah blinked. “Wait—Midnight & Co.? That fancy place with the overpriced cocktails?”

Oliver chuckled. “Overpriced, huh?”

“I mean, yeah,” Noah admitted. “But people say it’s good.”

Oliver’s smirk deepened. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

Noah hesitated. He wasn’t sure what this was—what Oliver wanted from him. But before he could second-guess himself, Oliver pulled a card from his pocket and slipped it into Noah’s free hand.

“Come by sometime,” Oliver said, his fingers brushing against Noah’s for just a second too long. “First drink’s on me.”

And then, just like before, Oliver walked away, leaving Noah standing there—heart racing, fingers curled around the card, knowing he was already in deeper than he should be.

to be continued

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