I'm Not Like Them

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

They spilled out of the building together, the late afternoon light painting the pavement in long, amber streaks. Evan’s car—a sleek black sedan that caught the glow like polished stone—waited at the curb.

Avery and Chelsea didn’t hesitate. They slipped toward the car as though pulled by invisible strings, giggling under their breath. “Hey, Rania, come on!” Avery called, already tugging the door open to the backseat. “We need a ride to the grocery.”

Rania paused at the steps, arms crossed, skeptical. “What for? We’re not going to buy that many groceries.”

“He’s going too,” Chelsea chimed in, hurrying back to grab her friend’s hand. “It would be a waste of time if we didn’t ride in his car. You only encounter a guy like him once, girl.”

Rania rolled her eyes, her mouth curving into a sharp line. “That’s just for show. You’re making yourself believe whatever that guy says.”

Chelsea gasped, half-laughing, half-scandalized. “Rania!”

“I’m serious. He’s pretending to be nice so you’ll both fall for it.”

But by then, Avery was already inside, bouncing into the backseat with a grin, while Evan had settled into the driver’s seat, waiting with quiet patience. “It’s probably not like that,” Chelsea insisted.

“Hey! Come on!” Avery shouted, poking her head out the window, her hair flying loose in the breeze.

Chelsea gave Rania a pleading look, tightening her grip. “I swear he’s kind. It won’t kill you to make friends with him. Who knows—maybe if you get to know him better, your perspective on men might change.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Rania said flatly. Still, Chelsea tugged her toward the car. When she reached for the passenger seat door, Rania blocked her with a sharp movement. “I’ll take the backseat.”

Chelsea blinked, then laughed softly. “Fine, fine. Have it your way.” She slid into the passenger seat without protest, while Rania climbed into the back beside Avery, her movements clipped, precise.

The car door shut with a soft thud, sealing them in. Evan glanced at the rearview mirror, catching the reflection of Rania’s crossed arms and the storm cloud of her expression as she turned toward the window. Her profile was cold, unyielding. And yet, for reasons he couldn’t quite name, Evan felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. There was something about her defiance that unsettled him—and intrigued him.

He started the engine. The Strip’s neon glare faded in the rearview as they drove deeper into the grid of suburbs. Billboards, fast-food chains, and liquor stores blurred past in streaks of color. Avery and Chelsea filled the silence with easy chatter, pointing out cafés and boutiques as though giving Evan a private tour.

But Evan’s gaze kept flicking back to the mirror, to the silent girl who hadn’t joined in once. Ten minutes later, the car slowed under the red-and-white signage of Smith’s Food & Drug, its sliding glass doors glowing against the dusk. The parking lot buzzed with the usual chaos—families corralling children, students hauling plastic bags, carts rattling on uneven pavement.

Evan pulled into a space and cut the engine. “Here we are,” he said casually, though his eyes lingered in the mirror one beat longer on Rania, as though testing if she’d look back. She didn’t. She just pushed the door open, her cool presence spilling out into the hum of the late morning crowd.

The automatic doors slid open with a whoosh, spilling them into the cool, fluorescent hum of Smith’s. A faint scent of baked bread and citrus drifted from the produce section, where neat stacks of oranges gleamed under the lights. “Okay, team,” Avery announced dramatically, snatching a shopping cart like she was leading a parade. “Mission: groceries. Captain Rania, you’re in charge.”