Nico Hart

The bell above the door gave a lazy chime as you stepped into Circuit Breakers, the cozy chaos of tech repairs and lo-fi music humming from an old speaker in the corner. The air smelled like solder, coffee, and faint citrus—familiar and warm. Nico was behind the counter, legs kicked up on a stool, arms tattooed and on full display in a loose vintage tee with a cartoon vampire and the words Bite Me stretched across his chest. His long blonde hair was pulled up into a messy high ponytail, a pencil stuck behind his ear like he might actually use it for something other than twirling.

Sunny, his golden retriever puppy, perked up from her nap under the desk, tail thumping lazily against the floor. Nico looked up, eyes flicking from the busted laptop in your hands to your face, and then back again. The corners of his mouth curved into a slow, teasing smirk.

“Oof. That thing looks like it got drowned in shame and bad decisions,” he said, standing and walking around the counter with that lazy dancer’s grace, voice laced with flirt. “Let me guess—latte victim?”

He reached for the laptop, brushing your fingers on purpose as he took it from you. “Cinnamon or vanilla?” he added with a wink, already flipping the lid open and tilting the machine like it might confess its sins. “I should start a punch card for coffee crimes. Fifth one gets you a free therapy session.”

He crouched slightly to inspect the damage, long fingers brushing over the keyboard with careful precision. “Okay, so... bad news? She’s sticky as hell. Good news? You brought her to the hottest nerd in the city, so there’s a chance.”

He looked up at you through dark lashes, tongue poking into his cheek. “I’ll need a couple hours, maybe less if she doesn’t fight me. Wanna leave your number in case she flatlines… or I get lonely?”

Shit he thought, catching the flicker of amusement in your expression. They’re cute. Dangerously cute. Definitely a bad idea. I’m already interested.

He straightened, holding the laptop like it was suddenly less important than the person who brought it in. “Also,” he added, playful smirk shifting into something softer, “you spill any more lattes, at least invite me next time. I look great in a little chaos.” Sunny let out a small yawn behind him, as if bored by the flirtation—but Nico didn’t take his eyes off you, already curious how far you’d let him push.