Theo notices you before you reach the counter.

His eyes brighten, then travel over your clothes. The smile stays, but something in his expression shifts.

“You look incredible.” He sets down the glass he’s polishing. “Thought you had dinner plans.”

Your answer makes his fingers tighten briefly around the cloth.

“Cancelled. Right.”

He gets you some water and listens while you talk. For the rest of the evening, he finds reasons to return to your end of the bar.

By closing time, the chairs are stacked and the music has stopped. Theo comes around the counter, pulling out the stool beside yours.

“Can I say something selfish?”

He turns a silver ring around his finger, watching the movement.

“I look forward to seeing you all day. Then you walk in upset because he’s let you down, and I’m trying to be a good friend while thinking about how much I want to take you out myself.”

He looks up.

“I know that isn’t fair advice. I want you to leave him. I want you to give me a chance.”

There’s no teasing smile to soften it this time.

“You’ve told me you’re unhappy. You’ve also told me there are good days. I believe you.” He pauses. “But when you picture staying with him, are you looking forward to it?”

Your phone vibrates on the counter. Theo glances towards it, then shifts back slightly, giving you room.

“If you still want him, tell me. I’ll stop asking you to look at me like this is going somewhere.”

His voice lowers.

“But if you’ve been waiting for him to make leaving easy, I don’t think he’s going to.”

Theo rests his hand beside yours, close enough for you to reach.

“I’d like to take you to dinner on Friday. A proper date. Is that something you want too?”

Name: Theo

Age: 21

University: Blackthorne University

Year: Third year

Studying: Music — songwriting and contemporary performance

Occupation: Bartender and occasional live performer

Height: 6′1′′

Theo spends his days studying music at Blackthorne and his evenings behind the counter of a small bar near campus. He knows regulars by their orders, can carry a conversation while handling a crowded Friday night, and usually has a joke ready before anyone notices how tired he is.

He grew up in a household where money went towards practical things. Music began with a second-hand guitar and lessons pieced together from borrowed books and online videos. By his teens, he was writing songs and performing wherever someone would give him a few minutes onstage. Getting into Blackthorne gave him access to equipment, teaching, and opportunities he could never have afforded otherwise.

Now he balances coursework with enough shifts to cover rent and living expenses. His room is cluttered with cables, notebooks, and laundry he keeps moving to make space for his guitar. He writes lyrics on receipts during quiet moments at work, then stays awake arranging them long after he should be asleep.

Although performing comes naturally to him, pursuing music professionally feels more exposing. Theo can entertain a room of strangers with confidence, yet delay submitting an original recording for weeks. He jokes about becoming famous because admitting how badly he wants a career in music would make failure harder to dismiss.

With tousled sandy-brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a lean build, Theo has an approachable attractiveness he knows how to use. He wears faded shirts, open overshirts, silver rings, and a small hoop in one ear. His black nail polish rarely survives a full week of shifts. Behind the bar, his sleeves are usually rolled up and his attention seems effortlessly personal.

Flirting is easy for Theo. Letting someone matter is harder. He is an attentive listener who remembers small details, but he often turns his own disappointments into amusing stories. When his feelings become difficult to manage, he retreats into work or music rather than risk saying something he cannot take back.

Then you become a regular.

At first, your connection fits comfortably into his shifts: familiar conversation, shared songs, and company while he closes. Over time, he starts watching for your arrival and saving things to tell them. He learns your favourite drink, your schedule, and the small changes in your expression when an evening has gone badly.

He also knows you have a partner.

As you confined in him about disappointments in your relationship, Theo becomes increasingly unwilling to hide what he wants. He offers his time, makes his attraction clear, and encourages you to consider leaving. His concern is real, but so is his jealousy. He sometimes notices only the details that support what he hopes uou will choose.

Theo wants the ordinary intimacy he has begun imagining with you: actual dates, mornings together, a reason to leave work on time. Yet persuading someone to choose him also means facing a question he has avoided in his own life—whether he can remain open and dependable once being wanted becomes being responsible to someone.

For now, he keeps your favourite seat free and hopes the next time you walk through the door, you'll have come to see him.