Chapter Three: The Girl With Too Many Questions
The town looked different in daylight.
It was quieter than I expected—no honking cars, no rush of people, just a slow, sleepy kind of rhythm that matched the birdsong and the sound of my sneakers against the cracked pavement.
I hadn't walked two blocks before she found me.
"Hey! Wait—hey, new girl!"
I turned, blinking into the sun, as a girl with bouncing curls and a blinding smile jogged up to me. She was wearing mismatched socks, denim overalls over a neon crop top, and the kind of confidence that made me feel underdressed in my own skin.
"You're Dalynn, right? Moved into the Callahan house?" She said it like we were already friends. "I'm Maisie."
I opened my mouth to answer, but she was already linking arms with me like we'd planned this.
"I've lived here since birth," she said. "Well, except for that one year in Minnesota but that doesn't count because it was freezing and I cried every day. Anyway, welcome! You are so pretty, by the way. Like Disney-princess pretty. What's your skincare routine?"
"Um... soap," I mumbled.
"Of course it is," she groaned. "You're one of those. Ugh, I love you already."
She led me down the sidewalk like she knew exactly where we were going—even though I had no idea what was happening.
"So," she said suddenly, squinting at me. "What's your story? Dead dad? Secret past? Running from a cult?"
I choked. "What?!"
She shrugged. "Sorry, I watch a lot of TV."
I couldn't help it—I laughed. It was short and a little stunned, but real.
"I just moved here with my mom. That's it."
"Hmm," she said, pretending to write on an invisible notepad. "Mysterious. I'll allow it."
She tugged me toward a café with big glass windows and pastel signs. "Come on. I'm getting you the best cinnamon roll of your life."
As we walked in, I glanced across the street.
Jason.
Leaning against a lamppost again. Hoodie down this time, messy hair, black t-shirt, unreadable stare.
And beside him—Alex, arms crossed, expression calm but focused.
They didn't move.
Just watched.
My heart skipped.
"Who are they?" Maisie asked, catching my gaze.
I tore my eyes away. "No one."
Maisie squinted. "That's Jason and Alex. Best friends. Total opposites. And dangerous in different ways."
"Dangerous?"
"Yeah. Jason's the reckless one. He's, like, the kind of guy who kisses you and then disappears. And Alex... well, he remembers your birthday and makes you feel like the only girl in the room. But don't get it twisted—they share everything."
"Everything?" I asked too quickly.
Maisie raised an eyebrow. "Ohhh. You've already talked to them."
I said nothing.
She grinned like she'd just won a prize. "This is gonna be so good.
Perfect. Let's give Dalynn a personal moment with Alex first—the quieter, warmer one—so their connection can deepen emotionally before things get more intense with Jason later. We'll keep Maisie nearby but step her out of the spotlight for now.
---
Chapter Three (continued): The Quiet One
After two bites of the cinnamon roll, I needed air.
Maisie was still talking, something about how boys in this town were genetically engineered to disappoint you by junior year, but I'd stopped listening. I smiled and nodded, pretending I wasn't distracted.
But I was.
By him.
By them.
"I'll be right back," I said, sliding out of the café booth.
Maisie gave me a dramatic wink and whispered, "If you end up kissing one of them, save details for me later."
I rolled my eyes and pushed the door open.
And there he was.
Alex. Alone.
He was sitting on a bench just outside the bookstore across the street, a coffee in one hand, a worn paperback in the other. A soft breeze caught in his hair as he looked up and—there it was again—that quiet, steady gaze like he could see everything I was afraid to say.
"Hey," I said, crossing the street before I could think better of it.
He smiled, warm and gentle. "Hey."
I sat beside him without asking. Close, but not too close.
He didn't speak first. He just waited—like he wanted me to set the pace.
"You always hang around outside cafés watching people?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Only when I'm waiting for someone to come talk to me," he said.
I blushed.
He sipped his coffee and set the book down on his thigh. "You okay?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Because you don't look okay," he said honestly. "You look like you're holding your breath."
I blinked. He wasn't wrong.
"I'm just… adjusting," I murmured, echoing what I told Mark earlier.
"To the town? Or to people like me and Jason?"
I glanced at him. His expression wasn't teasing—just open. Curious.
"Both," I said. "You guys are... a lot."
He chuckled softly. "Jason's a lot. I'm just the one who keeps him from doing anything too stupid."
"You're close."
"Since we were kids."
"I've never met two people who feel so... connected," I admitted. "Like you already know what the other one's thinking."
Alex nodded slowly. "We do. Most of the time."
"And now?"
He looked at me.
Really looked.
Something heavy but tender passed between us. "Now... I think we're both thinking about you."
I swallowed.
"You okay with that?" he asked gently.
"I don't know," I whispered.
He leaned in—not to kiss me, not yet—but just close enough for me to feel his warmth, his calm, the soft pull of something real.
"Then let us show you," he said. "We're not here to hurt you, Dalynn."
I believed him.
But belief didn't stop my heart from racing.
----
now back in the café:
Chapter Three (continued): No Hiding From Maisie
By the time I stepped back into the café, the bell over the door jingled like it knew I was lying.
I wasn't gone long.
But I felt changed—like something invisible had shifted under my skin, something warm and terrifying all at once.
Maisie was still at the table, her legs crisscrossed on the booth seat, now halfway through my cinnamon roll like she'd paid for it herself.
She looked up the second I sat down.
"So…" she said, eyes narrowing. "You were gone for ten minutes and your face looks like you walked out of a Nicholas Sparks movie."
"I just got some air," I said quickly.
She arched an eyebrow. "You got air or you got Alex?"
I said nothing. Which, apparently, was an answer.
Maisie gasped. "You did talk to him! Didn't you? Oh my God—was it flirty? Did he touch your hand? Did you kiss?!"
"No," I said, probably too fast.
Maisie leaned in, completely ignoring personal space. "So you almost kissed."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." She grinned. "Okay, give me everything. What did he say? Does he smell like fresh rain and regret?"
I laughed despite myself. "He smells like coffee. And… kindness."
Maisie clutched her heart. "Ugh. That's worse. The soft ones always hit harder."
She took another bite of the cinnamon roll, then spoke with her mouth full, "So what now? You into him? Or are you gonna pretend you don't see the way Jason looks at you like you're made of secrets he wants to ruin?"
"I don't know," I said honestly. "It's like… being around them makes my chest feel tight. But not in a bad way. More like... I forgot how to breathe and they reminded me."
Maisie stared at me for a second, then gave a long, slow whistle. "Girl. You're so screwed."
I just stared at her knowing full well she just explained how messed up I am feeling now.
----
Chapter Three (continued): Smoke and Sparks
Maisie had to meet her cousin at the nail salon, which left me alone for the walk home.
The streets were still quiet. The late-afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. I walked slower than I meant to, heart still tangled from everything Alex said—and everything Maisie guessed.
Then I felt it.
That low, subtle pull in the air. Like someone was watching me.
I didn't turn around right away.
But when I did—
He was there.
Jason.
Leaning against the brick wall of the alley near the bookstore, cigarette between his fingers, hoodie unzipped over a tight black shirt. That same smirk pulled at his lips, like he was amused by a joke only he heard.
"You always sneak up on people like this?" I asked, heart thudding.
He shrugged, eyes never leaving mine. "You always walk around looking like you're trying not to be noticed?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
He stepped forward, just once, just enough to be near without touching.
"You talked to Alex," he said quietly. Not jealous. Just... aware.
"I did."
"You gonna talk to me next?"
"I thought we were."
Jason tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. "No, Dalynn. This? This is you guarded. Careful. Still figuring out if I'm worth letting in."
His voice dropped lower. "Spoiler: I am."
My breath hitched. I hated how right he was.
He leaned in—close enough to make the air shift between us.
"You scare me," I whispered.
That smirk faded just enough for his voice to come out softer. "You scare me too."
And then, just like that, he stepped back, flicked his cigarette to the ground, and gave me one last look before walking away down the alley.
He never looked back.
But I didn't move for a long time.
Because now… I was the one burning.