Chapter three:Back where it should have end

Layla

It had been two weeks since the beach trip, but I still found sand in my shoes. I wasn’t sure if it was the universe teasing me or a reminder that some moments weren’t meant to wash away so easily.

Miami felt louder than before — car horns, ocean wind, the hum of real life. But in my head, everything was still quiet, still moonlit, still that night on the beach.

Ryan was in the living room playing video games when the doorbell rang.

“Can you get that, Lay?” he called.

I opened the door — and there he was. Ethan.

Same brown eyes. Same quiet smile. But something about seeing him here, in my world instead of that golden California one, felt… different. Realer.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Thought I’d drop by and say hi before classes start again.”

I stepped aside to let him in. “You mean, before my brother traps you in another twelve-hour gaming session.”

He grinned. “That too.”

Ryan shouted from the couch. “You better be ready, bro! No mercy today!”

Ethan groaned but laughed, walking inside. I followed, trying not to notice how easily he fit into our living room — like he belonged there.

I told myself not to stare. I failed miserably.

Every now and then, while the boys played, Ethan’s gaze would flicker toward me. Just for a second. Just long enough to make my heart do something stupid.

When he was leaving later that evening, he stopped at the door. “Hey, uh… I was thinking,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “You take photos, right? Maybe you could help me out with something for my art class this week?”

I blinked. “Me?”

He smiled, that same shy tilt of his lips that made everything inside me go soft. “Yeah. You’ve got a good eye.”

And just like that, the quiet between us started to feel like the beginning of something we couldn’t keep ignoring.

⸻

Ethan

I hadn’t planned to see her again so soon. But the truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about her — the sound of her laugh, the way she looked at the ocean, the way she said perfect like it meant something more.

So yeah, maybe I used Ryan as an excuse. “Just hanging out,” I told myself. But I knew better.

The moment she opened the door, barefoot in a white T-shirt and messy bun, I forgot how to breathe for half a second.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound normal.

She smiled — that same soft, calm smile that had been haunting my head since California.

We all played games, joked around, and pretended it was nothing. But every time I looked at her, she’d look away, and I’d feel it — that quiet pulse of something alive between us.

When I left, I told myself to keep it friendly. To not mess things up. But instead, the words slipped out before I could stop them: “You take photos, right?”

I don’t even know what I needed help with. I just needed a reason to see her again.

On the way home, the Miami sky was streaked with orange and gold — like California had followed me here. And maybe, I thought, so had she.

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