Chapter 5: Almost something

Layla

It was strange how quickly Ethan had become a part of my days.

A text here, a photo there, a quiet joke that only the two of us understood.

We were supposed to be finishing his art project, but lately, it felt like the project was just an excuse. He’d show up with his sketchbook, I’d pretend not to wait for him, and somehow, hours would pass without us noticing.

This afternoon, he arrived right after lunch.

“Your mom’s going to start thinking I live here,” he teased as he stepped inside.

“She already does,” I said, laughing. “But she likes you, so you’re safe.”

He grinned, brushing a hand through his hair. “Then I’ll take my chances.”

We sat on the floor surrounded by sketchbooks, pencils, and my camera gear. He showed me his half-finished drawings — people on the pier, waves, sunlight. But I noticed something else, too. The way he’d drawn me. Not exactly me, but the outline of someone who felt familiar — the way I sit, tilt my head, smile.

When I caught his eye, he quickly flipped the page.

“Just rough sketches,” he said.

“Right,” I murmured, smiling even as my chest tightened.

Ryan walked in a few minutes later, grabbing a drink from the fridge.

“Yo, Lay, Mom said dinner’s ready in ten. Ethan, you staying?”

Ethan looked at me for permission.

I shrugged, pretending to be casual. “Of course he is.”

Ryan laughed. “Cool. But no stealing my sister’s fries this time.”

Dinner was loud and warm, full of laughter and teasing. Ethan fit right in, helping Mom set the table, cracking jokes with Ryan. It was easy to forget why I was nervous — until I caught him watching me across the table. His gaze wasn’t bold, but soft. Lingering. Like he was memorizing something he knew he shouldn’t.

After we ate, I walked him out. The night air was heavy with warmth and the faint scent of rain. Streetlights reflected off the wet pavement, making everything glow like melted gold.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Thanks for staying,” I replied. “You make the noise around here a little less chaotic.”

He smiled, eyes crinkling. “You make everything quieter.”

I froze, unsure if I’d heard him right. He didn’t seem to realize what he’d just said, but the words lingered between us — soft and electric.

“Quieter?” I asked, almost whispering.

He nodded. “Yeah. Like… peaceful.”

Something fluttered painfully in my chest. I didn’t know what to say, so I smiled instead — a small, shaky thing that barely reached my eyes.

From inside, Mom called my name. “Layla! Can you help with the dishes?”

“I should go,” I said softly.

He nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” I said, and watched him walk down the path.

The night felt heavier once he was gone, like the air itself knew something was changing — something fragile and beautiful that neither of us dared to name.

When I finally closed the door, I realized my heart was still racing. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted it to stop.

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