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But then, just as quickly as the thought surfaced, I dismissed it. Xavier and I were strangers, existing in entirely different spheres. He was a titan of industry, a visionary whose influence extended far beyond my modest dreams and aspirations. And me? I was merely an observer, a spectator in the grand spectacle of his world.
Still, as I gathered my belongings and prepared to depart, I couldn't shake the lingering sensation of envy and longing that had taken root within me. It was a feeling I would have to grapple with, a reminder that even in the midst of greatness, the human heart can harbor desires that defy logic and reason.
* * *
After the seminar, I found my thoughts buzzing like a hive of restless bees. Seeking solace, I drifted toward the grandeur of the expo's main hall café. As I approached, the aroma of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries enveloped me, a warm embrace against the sterile chill of technology that permeated the air outside.
With a sigh, I approached the counter, scanning the array of delectable offerings. A delicate tartlet caught my attention, a whisper of sweetness to complement my drink.
“A hot chocolate as well, please,” I murmured to the barista, whose smile was as polished as the café itself.
Once settled at a secluded table by a floor-to-ceiling window, I wrapped my fingers around the warm mug and let out a contented sigh. The hot chocolate was divine, rich and velvety on my tongue, a small indulgence that felt like a gentle caress against my senses.
My notebook lay open before me, filled with scribbled notes from Xavier's talk. I found myself tracing over my handwriting, reliving his words when a soft chime interrupted my reverie. My phone screen lit up with an unexpected message from TechTemplarX.
Hey. Just arrived. Want to meet up?
They had just arrived? Confusion furrowed my brow as I recalled TechTemplarX suggesting Xavier's seminar in the first place. My fingers danced across the screen with a mixture of surprise and excitement.
I'd love to meet up! I'm at the café, I texted back.
Moments later, their response came through: Be there soon. My heart fluttered in anticipation. Quickly typing out a description of myself—I'm wearing a hoodie with the word Butterfly on it—I hit send and leaned back against my chair.
Their final message appeared: Can't wait to meet you. The promise in those words sent ripples through me; anticipation coiled tight within my chest. My fingers fluttered over the pages of my notebook, a poor attempt to anchor myself amid the rising tide of nerves. With each new arrival to the café, my pulse quickened, a silent prayer whispered that none would be TechTemplarX. Not yet. I couldn't seem too eager, too desperate for this encounter.
I dove into my notes, immersing myself in Xavier's words on quantum computing and artificial intelligence. His ideas were revolutionary, challenging—so different from the luxurious excess surrounding me. My pen followed along, retracing the shapes of letters and numbers that encapsulated such complex thoughts.
A slender finger tapping on the table snapped me out of my focused study. I glanced up, and time seemed to stretch thin, drawing out the moment before my eyes settled on the figure standing before me.
He was… breathtaking. His height alone was imposing, eclipsing the light from behind as if he were some celestial being gracing earth with his presence. The man's hair was a tousled mess of dark waves, suggesting he had run his hands through it more than once in thoughtful contemplation or perhaps mild frustration.
Despite the thick glasses perched on his nose and a facemask obscuring half his face, there was no mistaking the chiseled jawline or the clear gray eyes that peered at me with an intensity that felt all too familiar. He was dressed casually—a stark contrast to the suit-clad professionals milling about—but even simple attire couldn't diminish his allure.
For a fleeting second, a ridiculous thought crossed my mind: he bore an uncanny resemblance to the Davenport brothers—Xavier, in particular. I dismissed it with an inward chuckle; such coincidences belonged in daydreams, not reality.
“SilverButterfly?” His voice was a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air, tugging at something primal within me.
I nodded, unable to find my voice for a moment. “Yes.”
I studied him for a heartbeat longer before venturing to ask, “TechTemplarX?”
He nodded in confirmation.
“May I?” His voice pulled me back to the present, and I realized he was gesturing to the chair opposite mine. The question, though simple, seemed to carry a weight that settled in the air between us.
“Go ahead,” I managed, my voice a whisper. As he sat down, his gaze lingered on me, and warmth crept up my cheeks, an involuntary response to being so thoroughly observed.
I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear and smiled shyly. “What?”
“You're everything I imagined you to be,” he said softly, and the sincerity in his tone took me by surprise.
I reached for my hot chocolate, taking a sip to give myself a moment to collect my thoughts. My lips caught a dollop of whipped cream, and I licked it away without thinking. His gaze followed the motion, and I felt the flutter of butterflies in my stomach at the way he watched me—intense, yet not overbearing.
“How come you're not at Xavier Davenport's talk?” I asked curiously, seeking to navigate away from the silent heat of his stare.
He shifted slightly in his seat. “I was busy with another engagement.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “How did you find it?”
The shyness remained as I answered. “The talk was eye-opening. Xavier is a genius,” I confessed with an admiring smile. “I've always been so impressed by his work.”
