LAURA
Grandma ran out of salt and asked me to run to the grocery store.
On my way back, I spot Jae.
Of course. Jae.
For some reason he's never just Jae in my head. He's the Jae.
I don't know why, but the thought makes my steps slow.
He's standing at the dock, staring out over the river. The light is soft, almost orange, and it throws this quiet glow across his face.
He looks thoughtful, distant—like he's remembering something he hasn't talked about in years.
I never pictured him as the brooding type, but there's something almost nostalgic about him, and it catches me off guard.
I don't know how long I stand there watching him before he lifts his head and looks straight at me—like he knew I was there the whole time.
My heart practically jumps out of my chest.
I turn around so fast I nearly drop the bag of groceries, and hurry back up the street.
When I reach the house, I head straight to my room and peek out the window. For a second, I think I see Jae getting into a car and driving off.
Was he following me?
No. That makes no sense.
He's not that kind of guy.
I think.
***
I text James.
ME: when r u introducing me to ur gf
JAMES: u wanna meet her??
ME: ??? obviously
JAMES: idk… don't want u feeling weird
ME: why would i feel weird
JAMES: ok ok chill 😂
JAMES: we're going out tn
JAMES: u should come w us
My phone rings.
"James?"
"We're going out tonight. You should come with us."
"Going out? Me?"
"Yes. New downtown club that's all-ages on Thursdays."
"You know I don't do that."
"You might surprise yourself."
"I doubt it."
"How do you know? You've never gone out at night."
"Crowds, close spaces, dancing."
"It's Thursday, not Saturday. And you don't have to dance."
"Random guys bothering people," I add.
"Gaby's brother is coming. He's a black belt in jiu-jitsu. Nobody will go near you."
That doesn´t make the idea less terrifying.
"Still not going."
"Come on. Just one night. It could be good for you."
I pause. Lately my comfort zone feels more like a cage. Maybe one night of trying something different wouldn't ruin my life.
"Fine. One condition."
"Anything."
"If I'm bored, I leave."
"Deal. I'll pick you up at nine."
He hangs up before I can protest.
Perfect. Regret already creeping in.
***
Around ten, James shows up in my doorway.
"I'm ready," I say, attempting enthusiasm and missing entirely.
He looks me over.
"Where exactly are you going dressed like that?"
"What's wrong with it?"
Jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt. Basic. Comfortable. Functional.
"You look like you're heading to a boxing match. Back inside. Now." He turns me around and pushes me into my own room.
"I am not changing."
"You are. You don't keep your underwear in this closet, right?"
"No!"
He's already rifling through everything I own.
"You're wasting your time. There's nothing different in there."
He pulls out a fitted black V-neck blouse I forgot existed.
"This works."
"I'm not wearing that."
I like that blouse—too much maybe—but wearing it means people will actually look at me.
"Yes, you are. Why are you so afraid of looking good?"
"I don't look good in it."
"Try it on. Let me decide."
I stare at him. Then the blouse. Then him again.
Why am I even considering this?
"Just try it. Gaby and David are waiting."
"They're already here? Forget it, let's just go."
I head for the door, but he doesn't follow. He sits on my bed, arms crossed.
"Put it on."
I mutter under my breath but take the blouse and march to the bathroom.
Through the door, I hear him say, "No offense, Mrs. Morgan, but she looks like she borrowed Jason's wardrobe."
Grandma laughs.
"I heard that!" I shout.
"It's true! Hurry up!"
I step out wearing the blouse.
James grins like he's won some kind of fashion war. "There you go."
"Don't start."
"That looks… very good," he corrects himself after glancing toward Grandma.
Grandma nods approvingly. "Now we just need to do something with that pretty face of yours. I'm sure Gaby can help."
James is already pulling out his phone. "A little makeup won't kill you."
"You mean actually putting makeup on me?"
"You can't wear that blouse with a bare face," James says.
"Poor Gaby. When she finds out you're not interested in girls, she's going to be so disappointed."
James rolls his eyes. "Keep dreaming."
Grandma gently takes my arm. "I can help you too, dear."
"No, Grandma, really—this isn't necessary—"
But she's already opening a little makeup bag.
And at that point, there's no escaping any of it.
Going out is a bad idea. Getting dressed up for it feels even worse.
But as soon as I see how carefully Grandma applies my lipstick—steady hands, soft concentration—my irritation starts to fade.
"You don't remember this," she says, "but you used to get into your mother's red lipstick and clomp around the house in her heels."
I don't say anything. I remember it perfectly. That's why I stopped doing it. Thinking about her like that hurts more than I ever admit.
"You know who did your mother's makeup before her first date with your father?" Grandma asks.
"Let me guess. Grandpa?"
She laughs, warm and bright, and the sound surprises me. It's been a while since I've heard her laugh like that.
"She was so excited that day," Grandma says. "When she came home that night, she couldn't stop talking about your dad. I knew she was gone for him right away."
I can picture it—my mom young and glowing, wearing one of those floral dresses she loved, dancing in the living room with my dad the way they always did at the end of the day.
They loved each other so much.
And I loved them more than anything.
When Grandma fi nishes, I turn to the mirror and freeze.
"You're a beautiful young woman," she says.
She didn't do much—just some mascara, a thin line of eyeliner, a soft swipe of lipstick.
But it's enough to make me look… different. Better. My eyes look clearer, almost bold. I can't remember the last time I liked my reflection this much.
"Thank you, Grandma. But I'm not going on a date. It's just a night out with friends."
"I know," she says gently. "And you should have a little fun tonight."
She's so happy for me it almost makes me smile.
James leans into the doorway. "Laura, you look—"
I raise a hand before he can fi nish. "Don't say it. Let's just go before I change my mind and before Gaby and her brother leave us behind."
James stands, grinning but smart enough to shut up.
"Mrs. Morgan," he says politely, "we'll take good care of her. She'll be home safe."
Grandma nods. "I know you will."
"Thanks, Grandma."
I kiss her cheek and head toward the door, feeling strangely steadier than I did anhour ago—as if a little eyeliner and lipstick added just enough courage to get me through the night.
***
As we get to the car, James is fidgeting like crazy, glancing at me every few seconds.
I guess introducing me to his girlfriend tonight is a little more intense than he thought.
"Why are you so nervous?" I ask. "Scared they won't like me?"
"Not them," he says. "You. My only job tonight is to get you home in one piece. Everything else is optional."
He looks like he's bracing for impact.
"Also... I wanted to tell you back there that… you look hot."
He says it fast, like he's trying to get it out before he overthinks it.
I raise an eyebrow. "Thanks, James. But seriously, don't make this weird."
He chuckles.
Then the car door opens, and I freeze.
Gabby steps out, and wow. I mean… wow. Long black hair, dark eyes, perfect little nose. She's gorgeous.
"Hi, Laura," she says, soft and sweet. "So happy to finally meet you."
I stand there for a second, staring like an idiot, until James elbows me. His eyes scream: What are you doing?
"Hi, Gabriela. Me too. Sorry for making you wait."
"It's okay. Call me Gabby."
Then her brother gets out. Tall, confident, the kind of guy who looks like he walked off a magazine cover. I mutter under my breath to James.
"Where did you find these people? She looks like Pocahontas and he… I don't know, Pocahontas's older brother?"
James just shakes his head, smiling.
In the car, I learn a bit about them. Their parents lost a child in Brazil before moving here.
They started over completely from scratch.
James is totally going to marry her one day.
The club isn't crowded, just like James promised, but it's lively enough—lights flashing, music thumping, people dancing.
David goes to grab drinks, and I slide into the seat next to James.
"I'm helping my brother," Gabby says. "I'll be right back."
James watches her leave like she's disappearing off a cliff.
"You're really into her, huh?" I tease.
"I am," he admits. "Really into her."
I grin. "How long have you two been together?"
"Almost six months."
"Seriously? You've been dating that long and I didn't even know?"
"Yep."
"She seems to like you too," I say. "Have your parents met her yet?"
"Nope. Not even close."
"Afraid of their reaction?"
"More afraid of what they'll do."
Ah, right. I remember why James doesn't sweat the small stuff at school.
Home life is its own kind of nightmare. His dad is harsh, controlling, with zero patience.
Any girlfriend is automatically a problem.
"You know my dad," James says quietly. "Mom just wants me to focus on school so I can follow Dad's plan. A girlfriend? Total disaster."
I don't want to drag the night down. "Okay, no more talk about that. I'm happy right now—that's what counts."
I'll be here for him no matter what.
"James," I say, "can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"What do you know about Jae?"
"The Jae?" He blinks.
"Yes. From school."
"Why are you asking?" He frowns.
"Not what you think. Just… something happened."
He shrugs. "I don't know much. A little older than us, good grades, dad's some big-shot, that's it."
"That's it?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I think he followed me yesterday. By the dock. I'm pretty sure he saw me."
James raises an eyebrow, looking worried.
Then loud laughter cuts through the air. We both turn.
Giselle walks in like she owns the place, Mallory clinging to Peter.
James mutters under his breath, "Oh no. What the hell are they doing here?"
Giselle spots us and shakes her head, nudging Mallory and pointing in our direction. I ignore them and turn to James.
"Well, I don't believe in coincidences, but I'm starting to believe in witchcraft," I mutter, taking a deep breath.
James doesn't answer. He looks just as uncomfortable as I feel.
"We can go somewhere else if you want," he says quietly.
Part of me wants to say yes and leave immediately. But tonight, I don't want to run. I don't want to be a coward.
"No. We're staying," I say firmly.