alienated

The sounds that came alive from Lola after her first spoonful of the sweet, creamy goodness could've rivaled that scene in When Harry Met Sally. Absolute enjoyment of the frozen treat was easily visible on her expression, even her eyes fell closed. One would think she hadn't just been here days ago enjoying a completely different flavor Lola claimed to be her favorite.

Benny, who usually liked to enjoy his ice cream on the go, decided it was too hot to risk letting the sweet treat melt down his hand before he got home. Instead, he chose to sit inside the cool ice cream shop at one of the few available tables. Halfway through his treat, Benny, absorbed in something he was reading on his phone, was interrupted by a stranger asking if she could share his table. He didn't mind; it was sweltering outside, and the shop was busy. Benny nodded silently and moved his belongings to make room for her. However, he was not prepared for how... vocal she was.

He nearly chokes on his ice cream at the first sound to come out of her mouth, the whole shop nearly pausing in time. But still, she goes on, and Benny's brows knit as he's stunned to think someone so brazen as her existed. When she asks what he got, he snaps out of it, looking down at his treat. "—Chip," he struggles to get out, clearing his throat. "Mint chocolate chip." He then looks up, eyes falling to hers. He can't help but break into a grin. "I'm guessing yours isn't what I got." Otherwise, I'd be making those sounds, he implies.

Leyla caught the flicker in his expression at the brief brush of their hands, a faint heat creeping up her neck before she quickly looked away, pretending to fuss with her sleeve. Her lips twitched in response to his admission, a laugh threatening to break free. "Oh, I was absolutely dying to say I told you so," she remarked, brushing flour from her arm and letting her eyes linger on the fine white layer clinging to his shirt before meeting his gaze again.. "But I'll let you off the hook. This time."

She was about to nudge him again when she noticed the way his focus shifted past her, and her expression shifted instantly. "What?" she asked, stepping aside as he moved around her as realisation struck — the door had closed behind her. She must have knocked whatever was holding it open on her way in. Turning to follow his line of sight, just in time to see him grip the freezer door handle and yank at it unsuccessfully, her stomach sank. "Oh no." The chill was already biting at her fingers.

Benny's mind went blank as he stepped back, suddenly aware of the cold air escaping from his breath while Leyla struggled to open the door. His eyes frantically searched the surroundings, but the small yellow bin that had been used to prop the door open was nowhere to be seen. He closed his eyes slowly, trying to contain the irritation that threatened to bubble up from his chest and into his fists.

The door stopper he had bought to keep the walk-in open was tucked away in a drawer in Leyla's office, saved for the next time Benny was supposed to do inventory. That was supposed to be now—except it wasn't, because Benny had thought it would be fine to skip the task and no harm would be done. He had been too preoccupied with other things to stop and get the door stopper he hadn't touched in weeks.

He knew it was his fault. Failing to fix the handle and not using the proper tools to ensure safety for himself, and now for Leyla, was a hard pill to swallow, especially in the cold.

He snaps out of it when she turns to him. Benny responds by sliding his hands down to his sides and to his pockets, only to find them empty. And then, the soft, muffled sounds of music filter through the heavy door, confirming her question. He winces. "—Shit," he mutters.

Benny turned away from her, an annoyed, long "Fuuuuck" escaping him as he walked deeper into the freezer, running his hands through his hair in frustration. What was he going to do? They were closed, so everyone went home. The best they could rely on was someone coming back because they forgot something, or Benny and Leyla were going to freeze to death.

Freeze to death.

Benny studies Nia as she tries to piece together the information he's given her, the look in his eye preparing for that knowing glint. Not making it hard was part of the fun, and he knew sooner or later Nia would figure it out, but that didn't make the reveal any easier. He then erupted into a laugh, grinning from ear to ear. "You think I might be too nice for something like that?" He couldn't help but ask for confirmation, surprised to find himself otherwise pleased by her statement. "That's nice of you to say," he says with another chuckle before taking another drink. Then, with a shrug, he nods. "Okay, so I practically gave you that one," he rolls his eyes, leaning back. "Do I give off 'Karma'?" he says, with air quotes. "—Anyway, what, now I have to down this whole thing?" he says, lifting the wrong drink. "Ride the bull?" Benny shakes his head, resting his head on the palm of his hand. "Admit with my full chest that the person I like..." Benny trails, shaking his head. He groans. "Never mind."

Send a 🎵 for a song about a specific time in my muse's life (specify the incident)

Send a 🎼 for a random song from my muse's playlist

Send a 🎊 for a party song from my muse's playlist

Send a 😘 for a song my muse likes to have sex to

Send a 💖 for a song that makes me think of our characters (specify who)

Send a 🔥 for a song that always gets them motivated

Send a ❤️ for a love song from my muse's playlist

Send a 💔 for a breakup song from my muse's playlist

Send a ✨ for a song that reminds my muse of someone

Send a 🕺 for a song that is guaranteed to make my muse get up and dance

Send a 😁 for a song that always cheers my muse up

Send a 😢 for a song my muse listens to when they're sad

Send a 💞 for my muse to explain what their favorite music genre is

Send a 🎤 for my muse's go to karaoke song

Send a 🏋️‍♀️ for a song my muse loves to listen to at the gym

Send a 🙈 for my muse's guilty pleasure song

Coming to the Rusty Spur on a Thursday night probably wasn't the brightest idea the deaf yoga instructor had had lately. Thursday was very clearly the new Friday, and the country bar was packed to the brim. She had to weave her way through the chaos, shoulder to shoulder with strangers in boots and flannel. The din of the crowd so loud it made even hearing the country twang that played over the loud speakers inaudible for the brunette. She was scanning the sea of bodies for an empty table when she cut around a corner and walked straight into the path of a dart board she hadn’t noticed.

She didn’t hear the sharp warning from somewhere behind her, only the muted shuffle of boots and laughter. What she did notice was the sudden thunk against her glass. She froze, staring down at the offending dart now sticking out of her drink like a bizarre garnish. Lifting it out by the tail, she turned toward the general direction it had come from, one brow arched. “…Not sure if I should offer to buy you a drink or ask if I’m next.”

The metal dart felt heavy between Benny's fingertips as he focused on the bullseye from his position. He was usually quite good at this; playing darts was a common pastime for him. Sure, he had a bit of an advantage given his reach, but Benny once spent a full twelve hours testing those limits. At 22, he never backed down from a challenge.

However, tonight wasn't about reliving any particular memories. Although one memory lingered in his mind, he simply wanted to keep himself occupied until his friend arrived. He let out a sigh, contemplating whether to throw the dart. Rolling his shoulders back, he decided he wouldn’t let a bittersweet memory taint his enjoyment of the game.

He tossed the dart, but as it flew through the air, someone walked right into its path. Benny winced, expecting the worst—until it landed perfectly in her cup. Relief washed over him when he realized it was Val. He approached her with an easy grin. "Holy shit, I almost gave you a cheek piercing," he joked, poking her cheek playfully. "Boop."

He smiled and took her cup, the dart sticking out of it. "You're kidding, right? I have to buy you one." He shook his head, then took a drink from her cup. Benny grimaces, the taste of metal tainting his tongue. "Yeah, see? This one is no good." He nodded toward the bar. "C’mon."

"Oh, man. If you look this good at this age, I can only imagine how much more beautiful you were in your thirties," Kit spoke, sending Ulla a little tiny wink, a mutual understanding that he was being generous with it. Nothing weird about making sure his model was comfortable with herself and was confident with herself.

Kit began snapping photos again, pausing between every few to show Ulla on his computer. They were just little glimpses, photos before being edited, but he liked cheering her on.

"So how far does the Hellstrom lineage go in Briar Ridge?" he asked, positioning himself behind the viewfinder, waiting for just the right moment to snap the next photo of his model.

Benny rolled his eyes with a grin at Kit's comment about his mother, knowing she would revel in it. She was the type of person who cherished compliments and showcased them like badges of honor. "Oh," she cooed, grinning as she waved her hand dismissively while fixing her hair in an effort to appear humble. Benny wanted to laugh, realizing that as soon as Kit left, his mother would begin recalling every single compliment he had given her.

His next question prompts a pause. Benny and his mother exchange a glance, as if waiting to see who will speak first. The word "lineage" lingers in the air, feeling strange and heavy. "I have a daughter," Ulla says, momentarily changing her posture. "Benny's younger sister." Benny tilts his head, his eyes observing them closely. "And that's it—just us." A chill runs down his spine, and he feels his fingers starting to numb from the tension. "We have some other family in town too," Benny adds, clearing his throat as if trying to ease his discomfort. "Cousins, mostly."

The door to Briar Ridge’s little corner bakery swung shut behind her, muffling the early-morning street noise. It was barely eight, but the place was already warm with the smell of coffee and fresh bread, the kind of scent that made you forget you’d meant to skip breakfast.

Elena shrugged out of her coat and scanned the display case, eyes drifting over neat rows of croissants and muffins. She didn’t come in often, mornings usually meant coffee at home, files in her bag, and straight to the courthouse, but the early hearing had been pushed back, and she’d found herself with ten extra minutes and a craving she couldn’t talk herself out of.

When she spotted Benny behind the counter, she gave a faint smile and a lift of her chin. “Morning. Please tell me you’ve still got one of those cinnamon twists left and didn’t let the early crowd take them all.”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice just enough to make it feel more personal. “Also,” she paused, “how’s your mom? Mine keeps insisting she doesn’t need anything, which usually means she’s been dodging help. I know your mom’s been checking in, but I figured you’d have the more honest version.”

Benny called upon a few young baristas, barely out of their teens, to help him wrestle a heavy tub of flour off the top shelf. With a grateful wave, he acknowledged their weary smiles as they trudged out of the walk-in freezer. Flour dust clung to his shirt and pants, creating a ghostly white pattern as he brushed himself off. After pushing the cumbersome bin back onto the bottom rack, he locked the freezer door with a sigh, shaking off the lingering chill that enveloped him.

Stepping out onto the shop floor, he spotted Elena by the display case. "Morning," he greeted her, a genuine grin spreading across his face. At her request, he moved back to the pastry selection, carefully retrieving a generous portion of golden cinnamon twists. “You’re just in luck,” he chuckled.

His expression softened at the mention of their mothers, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Aside from his sister, Elena was the only one who truly understood the weight he carried, despite their differing circumstances. "Well, I’m sure my mom wasn’t listening to your mom and is helping her out anyway," he chuckled, a playful glint in his eye as he approached the register. "She’s doing well—too well?" he added, tilting his head slightly, sharing a moment of concern with her.

Benny shook his head, breaking the moment with a pause as he cleared his throat. "I don't like to think about it." He let out a small sigh, thoughts heavy. "Anything else?" he asked. "Nothing to drink?"

Benny knew being nosy was going to bite him in the ass later. He knocked his head back with a laugh as Nia gave him a taste of his own medicine, deciding that it didn't matter what the details were. She was right. If he had the right to pry, Nia should have the right as well. Benny decides he's not going to make her try too hard, but he is interested in playing her proposed game. He hums and nods as he adjusts himself in his seat to get comfortable. "Okay... I can do that," he chuckles, his gaze lifting as he tries to think of facts that will satisfy them both. "She owns a business," he starts, tilting his head as he quickly realizes how obvious that might be. "Brunette." Good, that's a vague one. "And I may have sabotaged someone's chances in trying to get close to her."

Leyla startled at the sound of her name, the urgency in Benny's voice slicing clean through the soft hum of music and the quiet rustle of pages. She'd been sitting on the floor in the back corner of the store, halfway through re-categorising the romantasy shelf, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. Benny never shouted — not unless something was genuinely on fire or about to be. She sprang up and jogged toward the sound of his voice within an insant, the cold air hitting her face before she even stepped inside. "What's u—" she started, before her eyes landed on him, arms raised like he was bracing for impact, white dust already blooming in the air like a warning. She didn't laugh—yet. Instead, she lunged forward, grabbing the edge of the bin just as it tilted, helping him steady it back onto the rack. Her fingers brushed his, cold from the freezer air.

Benny turned and felt the tension in his shoulders ease at the sound of Leyla's hurried footsteps. He noticed her trying not to break into a smile as she approached, clearly amused by the sight before her. He shook his head but managed to return her smile, adding a pleading look as she came to his rescue. The scent of her perfume briefly caught his attention while she helped him with the lid of the bin.

His eyes flickered toward their hands as they briefly touched—a habit Benny had struggled to hide ever since they started working together. He managed to try to cover it by overdoing it with the blinking and looking elsewhere, but he wasn't always so lucky. "Thanks," he breathed in relief, turning to face her after pushing the bin a bit further back.

He turns at the sound of her brushing flour off her arm. He clears his throat, trying to brush off his momentary embarrassment. "Yeah, well, I definitely regret putting it up there now," he rubs the back of his neck, flashing his teeth at her, knowing she was dying to say that she told him so.

Benny used to play pranks on Leyla by placing items she couldn't reach on shelves. One of the pranks he pulled was putting the flour bin so high that he nearly forgot about it. Leyla had warned him that he would regret it later, and now, considering he was the only one who could reach the bin, he was also the only one responsible for retrieving flour from it. It was truly a double-edged sword, as some might say. "It was funnier back then."

For a brief moment, Benny thinks he should try to do it now while Leyla is still there to help him. However, he freezes when he sees the freezer door closed behind her. He leans out to look past her, his brow furrowed and panic beginning to churn in his stomach. He flashes an alarmed look at Leyla before moving towards the door, shaking the good-for-nothing handle vigorously. He pauses, heaving a deep breath before he turns to face her. "We're locked in."