Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 10

Then there’s his mouth, lips full and shaped just right, that perfect cupid’s bow, with a faint mustache above it that’s barely there but somehow makes him look older. More real.

When he smiles, it’s blinding. His teeth are perfectly aligned and too white to be fair. Like he laughs in toothpaste commercials on weekends. And as he talks, his Adam’s apple bobs, a small detail I shouldn't notice but can't stop watching now.

My eyes drift lower. His arms, lean but toned, veins just barely visible along his forearms and hands. He's in a white polo that’s wrinkled like he pulled it from the laundry five minutes ago, but somehow, on him, it looks like designer streetwear. Black shorts, too. Effortless. Casual. Ridiculously unfair.

And then there’s that gold watch on his wrist, too mature for his usual antics, but he wears it like he was born with it.

My brain short-circuits. When did I start noticing this? When did his face become something worth memorizing? I don't even like him like that… right?

“Okay,” James says, suddenly, voice low and teasing. “You’ve been staring at me for, like, a full minute now.”

My cheeks go hot. I look away too quickly. “Was not.”

He grins. “You were. Do you… like what you see?”

“In your dreams, Gray.”

He laughs under his breath, a rich, amused sound, then jerks his head toward the shore. “Come on. You can swoon more while we walk.”

I roll my eyes, but follow.

We make our way down to the sand, shoes in hand, and the grains are soft and cold beneath my toes. He lays out a checkered blanket like he’s done it a hundred times. Then he opens the basket and pulls out two sodas, holding one out.

“They’re just soda,” he says with a half-smile. “Promise.”

I take it from him and nod, something small tugging at the corner of my lips.

He unpacks a few bags of chips and cookies and places them between us on the blanket. Then we sit, close, but not too close. That in-between distance where you can feel the heat of someone without touching them.

We don’t say anything for a while.

The ocean stretches out before us, black and endless. The moon hangs low like it’s listening. The stars are scattered above like spilled glitter, and the waves roll in and out like some ancient lullaby.

There’s something soothing about the silence. Like it’s allowed. Like it’s understood.

He leans back on his elbows, face tilted up to the sky. “You ever feel like… nothing’s real until you stop and look at it like this?”

I glance at him. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “All the time.”

And it’s true.

Right here, with the wind on my cheeks and the salt in the air and this boy who I thought I had figured out but maybe don’t at all, it feels like I stepped out of my own life and into something softer. Something I don’t quite understand.

I steal one more glance at James. His lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks. His lips are parted slightly, breathing slow, steady.

And I think, Maybe I never noticed him because I was too busy trying not to.

James breaks the silence.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

I turn to him. “For what?”