ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟs ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ

he knew it was horrible to ask something like that of her, but maya ellison wasn't exactly known for her niceties around time. she was ruthless with her method, and he wanted to know what she wanted with him in that moment.

The late afternoon light stretched long across the sidewalk, catching on the edges of shop windows and throwing a warm glow over the street. Naomi adjusted the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder as she spotted him just outside the bookstore, a familiar presence even if they hadn’t spoken before. ❝Andrew Markson, right?❞ she asked, her tone smooth, low, threaded with that dry steadiness she always carried. The corner of her mouth tipped upward, subtle, almost-smile more in her eyes than her lips. ❝Naomi Ellison.❞ Her gaze flicked briefly toward the door of the bookstore before finding him again. ❝I’m putting together a piece on the businesses that give this town its backbone. Thompson’s gets plenty of attention, but your place came up more than once. I was hoping you might be willing to talk about it.❞

❝Fast and polite,❞ she said at last, her tone low, warm at the edges but still carrying that trace of dry amusement. ❝Dangerous combination. You’ll set the bar too high for the rest of us.❞ She adjusted her grip on the bag, the strap cutting diagonally across her shoulder, and tilted her head slightly as though conceding the point. ❝Still, I’ll take it,❞ Naomi added, softer now, letting the words hang between them like an acknowledgment rather than a joke. She took a small step back, enough to ease the closeness without breaking it completely. ❝You from around here, or just visiting?❞

❝Fair enough,❞ Naomi murmured, dark eyes cutting briefly to her cup before returning to the woman in front of her. ❝That’s a tragedy no one needs before noon.❞ She shifted her weight, letting the strap of her bag slide more comfortably across her shoulder, and studied Gwen with quiet curiosity. ❝Just got into town, though? That’s a different kind of rush,❞ she added, her voice softening, steadier, though still lined with that dry lilt she carried naturally. ❝Roseton’s small, but it doesn’t seem to let people breathe for long. Something always finds a way of filling your time.❞ Her mouth curved again, that almost-smile. ❝At least you’ve got coffee to balance the chaos. That helps.❞ A beat passed, quiet but not uncomfortable. ❝I’m Naomi, by the way.❞

Her shoulders loosened a fraction, the tension easing out as though Ruth’s choice to sit had granted her a reprieve she hadn’t realized she needed. She let her gaze drift back toward the chaos on the floor, dark eyes sharpening with the quiet curiosity she always carried when given a scene to observe ❝People-watching,❞ she repeated, voice steadier now, touched with something sly. Her attention caught on a man at the edge of the crowd, leaning in close to a woman who laughed a little too brightly, her hand already inching toward the next drink. ❝That one’s working overtime to convince her he’s worth the headache. Give it twenty minutes, and she’ll be sneaking toward the exit while he’s still rehearsing his charm in the mirror.❞ Her gaze shifted back to Ruth, lifting her glass slightly in a gesture that felt like both a toast and a quiet concession. ❝This is way more fun than dancing.❞

he  waited  for  naomi’s  answer  with  baited  breath  ,  afraid  any  movement  would  shatter  the  moment  .  as  her  hand  melted  against  his  ,  zay  couldn’t  hide  the  giddy  smile  that  lit  up  the  entire  room  .  his  fingers  wrapped  around  her  delicate  hand  ,  gently  leading  her  towards  the  dance  floor  .  rolling  his  eyes  fondly  ,  zay  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  her  ,  “  you’re  going  to  be  a  natural  ,  you’ll  put  me  to  shame  .  “  once  he’d  found  a  spot  a  bit  away  from  the  crowd  ,  zay  turned  and  placed  a  hand  on  the  small  of  naomi’s  back  ,  slowly  guiding  her  .  “  you’re  in  good  hands  ,  ellison  .  i  won’t  let  you  fall  ,  unless  you’re  falling  for  me  .”  the  twinkle  in  his  brown  eyes  was  playful  ,  but  the  thunder  in  his  chest  from  her mere  touch  indicated  otherwise  .

Her first instinct was to scoff at his theatrics. The clutch to his chest, the shameless declaration, the way his lashes fluttered as if the whole room ought to stop and watch. It was ridiculous. It was charming. It was both, and Naomi felt the familiar tug at the corner of her lips, the one she rarely let bloom into anything more. A laugh hovered, threatening to break loose, but she caught it in her throat and let it die into that small, fleeting curve instead. ❝Careful, Zay,❞ she murmured, velvet-dry, each syllable dipped in amusement she didn’t bother to disguise. ❝You keep tossing confessions like that around and someone’s bound to mistake you for sincere. Next thing you know, you’ll have three broken hearts lined up at the bar demanding reparations.❞ Naomi had spent years learning how to stay unreadable, how to let the world project what it wanted without ever offering a piece of herself in return. But Zay looked at her as though he already knew better, as though the dance of her near-smiles and dry words was proof enough. Still, she let him tug her into the crowd, her steps softening against the pull of his grin, as if some stubborn part of her didn’t mind the inevitability of it. Her hand stayed steady in his, cool and deliberate, grounding in contrast to the nervous tremor she could still feel running beneath his skin. She catalogued it, of course, filed it away with the rest of the details of him that she kept locked up tight. When his palm brushed the small of her back, heat blooming through fabric that had felt like armor only moments ago, Naomi tilted her head and let one brow rise at his audacity. The line that followed earned him a look that was equal parts warning and tease, her dark eyes catching his with an unhurried steadiness. ❝That’s a dangerous promise, firefighter,❞ she said, her voice smooth, the edges softening despite herself. ❝You let me fall and I’ll write the story myself: local hero trips woman, denies responsibility. Headline gold.❞ The smile that touched her lips then was quieter, more real than she meant it to be, flickering across her face like a crack in the mask she wore so carefully. She let him guide her, steps careful, the rhythm of her movement betraying that she wasn’t fighting him as much as she pretended. ❝Don’t say I didn’t warn you,❞ Naomi added at last, tone dry but her gaze lingering on him a moment longer than necessary.

The weight of the grocery bag shifted against her palm as Naomi made her way toward the exit, the faint squeak of the hinges catching her attention before the door swung wider to reveal someone already holding it open. The woman’s smile was small, but it carried enough warmth to pull something softer out of Naomi in return. Her own mouth curved upward, that subtle, wry little tilt that rarely grew into anything wider but was no less genuine for its restraint. ❝Thanks,❞ she said quietly, her voice smooth, low, as she stepped past the threshold with a slight dip of her head in acknowledgment. Naomi shifted her grip on the strap of her bag, sliding it higher onto her shoulder, the motion practiced and unhurried. For a moment she could have simply kept walking, let the exchange stay a polite nothing between strangers, but she paused instead, turning just enough to meet the other woman’s gaze again. ❝Not every day someone beats me to the door,❞ she murmured, her tone threaded with dry amusement but softened by the steadiness in her eyes. ❝Guess I owe you one.❞ It wasn’t quite a joke, not quite serious either, the kind of remark that hovered in that middle space she often lived in, somewhere between deflection and invitation. She lingered there a beat longer, balanced between movement and stillness, as though she hadn’t yet decided whether this was a fleeting moment best left to fade or the kind of opening that might be worth following.

The impact was enough to send a faint ripple through the coffee in Naomi’s cup, though not a drop spilled past the rim. She steadied it with an easy flex of her fingers before lifting her gaze to the woman in front of her. The apology was already tumbling out, earnest and quick, and Naomi gave a small shake of her head as if to wave it off before it gathered weight. ❝I’m fine, my coffee was spared, don’t worry about it,❞ she said evenly, her voice low, carrying that calm assurance that came naturally to her. The corner of her mouth tilted in something just shy of a smile, more in her eyes than her lips. ❝Seems like everyone’s rushing today. Must be something in the air.❞ She shifted slightly to the side, making space, the bag on her shoulder slipping lower until she hitched it back into place. For a beat longer she lingered, dark eyes steady, curious in a quiet way. ❝You alright? You look like you’ve had a full day already and it’s barely started.❞

Her lips twitched into that familiar almost-smile at Aranya’s phrasing, the one that suggested she knew exactly what kind of answer her friend was digging for. Naomi trailed a fingertip along the rim of a glass vase before setting it back in its place, shoulders easing into a quiet shrug. ❝Depends on who you ask,❞ she said at last, voice low, smooth, threaded through with dry amusement. ❝Long celebration speeches, champagne that tasted more like sugar than anything else, and the usual dance floor antics. People drank too much and at least two arguments turned into full-blown shouting matches.❞ She tilted her head, letting her dark eyes find Aranya’s with a faint glint that betrayed her own curiosity. ❝I think I heard of one. It wasn't quite swinging-from-the-chandeliers, so it wasn’t too awful of a night.❞ Her mouth curved again, softer this time. ❝It would have been nice to have you there. Sorry you couldn't make it.❞

OLIVIA BAKER ALL AMERICAN | 6.15 "I Do (Part II)"

Dae wasn't sure how to feel about that. He didn't think most of the people he knew back home would have said he wore anything on his sleeve. Maybe the unfamiliarity of it all was making him more vulnerable. Perhaps that was the part he wasn't sure how to feel about. It felt almost embarrassing, like he was showing something he didn't want to be. But he tried not to let it bother him. "Is that a good thing?" they asked lightly, a warm smile on their lips. They let out a soft laugh. "Is that so? Not just me then," they added. Small towns had never really been Dae's thing, but here they were anyway. Dae laughed softly. The idea of him needing a brave streak was amusing to him. But he rolled with it. "I guess so. Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. What about you?"

Her mouth tilted into that almost-smile, the kind that hinted at amusement without ever quite giving it the name. She rolled the stem of her glass slowly between her fingers, gaze steady on them. ❝Depends on the day,❞ she answered at last, voice low and even, though softened with a trace of warmth that kept it from sounding like deflection. ❝Wearing things on your sleeve means people don’t have to guess. Saves them the trouble. It also depends on what you have on your sleeve.❞ A quiet sip of her drink followed. ❝Not just you, no. Half this room was probably born on the same block, so it makes the rest look like they wandered onto the wrong set,❞ she added, eyes flicking briefly over the crowd before returning to them. ❝Curiosity’s as good a reason as any. A friend of mine practically dragged me by my hair and then raced off to mingle.❞

A quiet breath slipped past her lips, more like the ghost of a laugh than anything fully formed. Future ex-husband ⸻ now there was a line she hadn’t heard before. Her mouth tilted into that familiar wry almost-smile, the one that lived more in her eyes than her lips. ❝Guess I’ll just have to risk dying alone, then,❞ she murmured, tone dry but softened by the faint warmth edging through it. She reached for a few of the glasses with steady fingers, settling them neatly on the tray. ❝Santa for inebriates,❞ Naomi echoed, dark eyes flicking up with a glint of amusement that suggested the title suited her counterpart more than herself. ❝You play the wild card, I’ll be the one making sure the gifts don’t get dropped along the way.❞ At the mention of the Pink Panther, her brow arched with quiet curiosity. ❝Free drinks and charcuterie,❞ she repeated. ❝That’s a dangerous combination. You might actually convince me.❞

OLIVIA BAKER 6.15 I Do (Part II)

Her lips curved into something sharper at his tease, a sense of familiarity slipping into her stomach as their jokes easily fell into the space between them. It was almost enough to make her forget this was the first time his voice had reached her ears. She leaned in slightly, elbow resting against the table, dark eyes narrowing just a touch in mock suspicion. ❝You’re not wrong,❞ she murmured, tone low and filled with possible conspiracy as though she were letting him in on a dangerous secret. ❝Corners make for an easy escape route. Classic serial killer strategy. Sit with your back against the wall, watch everyone else, make your move when no one’s looking.❞ She let the words hang there just long enough before the edge of her voice softened, a real smile tugging through at last. ❝Guess you should be careful. You might be walking right into my trap.❞ She settled back then. ❝It's really nice to finally meet you, too,❞ she said, quieter now, though steady, less filled with potential serial killer plans. ❝Different good, or different bad?❞