Our Beautiful Lie

Chapter Four

~Aurora~

The song Daylight by Taylor Swift played softly through my earbuds as I walked down the familiar street, the autumn air nipping at my skin. My breath puffed in little clouds, and the crisp scent of falling leaves mixed with the faint aroma of roasted coffee drifting from nearby cafés. My bag bumped against my hip as I picked up my pace, eager to dig into Mrs. Garcia’s muffins and lose myself in my book.

I slowed when a glow of warm lights spilled onto the street from a café on the corner. The windows were fogged with steam, and strings of golden fairy lights wound around the doorframe. Through the glass, I saw little pumpkins arranged on tables, fake maple leaves scattered like confetti, and the faint shimmer of a fireplace screen flickering.

It looked cozy. Too cozy.

I wasn’t planning to go in, but my feet betrayed me. I pushed open the door, a small bell chiming above my head. Warmth hit me instantly, wrapping around me like a blanket. The café was crowded enough to feel alive, but not so busy I couldn’t breathe. Couples whispered across tables, groups of students laughed near the counter, and a man in a beanie tapped away at his laptop.

I searched for the most hidden spot and found one near the window, tucked into a corner where the shadows half-swallowed me. My kind of place—out of sight, out of mind.

After sitting for a few minutes, I realized that my seat was too hidden. To order, I’d have to raise my voice, wave someone over, and risk drawing attention. The thought made my chest tighten. With shaky fingers, I tugged my hair forward like a curtain and muttered my order when a waiter finally came close.

“What?” he snapped, irritated.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I repeated myself louder, my voice wobbling, but by then he was already scribbling on his pad, his expression tight like he had no patience for me.

When a much younger waitress brought my drink a few minutes later, I managed a tiny “thank you.” She didn’t even glance at me.

I blew on the steaming cup, inhaling the sweet smell. White chocolate latte—my favorite. The first sip was blissful, the smooth blend of espresso and creamy sweetness warming me from the inside out. I paired it with a bite of muffin, and the flavors melted together like comfort itself. For a moment, my shoulders relaxed.

This was my version of heaven: a good book, a warm drink, and food I didn’t have to share.

I hunched over my novel, shutting out the chatter of the café, letting the world shrink to words and crumbs.

“Hey.”

The voice was soft, but I ignored it. No one ever spoke to me in public.

Then—SCRAAAAAPE.

The shrill scrape of metal chair legs against tile made me flinch so hard my book slipped from my hands and hit the floor with a thud. I scrambled to grab it, my pulse spiking, irritation bubbling at the intrusion.

When I finally looked up, my heart stuttered.

Two boys sat down across from me, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ryan Wallace. Finn Baker.

The popular duo. The kind of people who never, ever noticed girls like me.

“Hey.” Finn’s grin was as casual as if we were old friends.

I blinked, stunned, then darted a look behind me to check if maybe someone else had followed.

Ryan smirked faintly. “Stop looking back, silly. We’re talking to you.”

My throat dried out. “Uhm—hi?” The word came out half-question, half-whisper. My palms grew damp, and I wiped them on my jeans under the table.

Finn leaned forward suddenly, his nose twitching like he’d caught a scent. “Oh my God. Those muffins smell so good.” Before I could react, he plucked one straight from the box, popped it into his mouth, and let out a dramatic moan.

“Holy hell, this is amazing.” His eyes fluttered shut in mock ecstasy.

“Finn.” Ryan smacked him upside the head, rolling his eyes.

“What?” Finn’s words came muffled through a mouthful of chocolate.

“You don’t just steal someone’s food.”

Finn swallowed and turned to me with an apologetic smile that almost reached his green eyes. “Sorry. Hope you don’t mind?”

My brain scrambled for words. “No—it’s fine.” My voice trembled. Then I blurted, “And—I’m sorry I poked you earlier—”

Finn chuckled, cutting me off. “Stop apologizing, Aurora. Seriously, it’s all good.”

My chest tightened. He knew my name.

I stared at him, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he heard it. “You… know my name?”

“Of course we do,” Finn said, leaning back with a grin. “You’re that girl who always has her head down, face in a book, avoiding eye contact—oh, like you’re doing right now.”

The words stabbed deeper than I expected. I lowered my gaze, shame curling in my stomach.

Ryan smacked him again, harder this time. “That’s not how you describe someone, idiot.”

“It’s fine,” I whispered, though my throat ached. “It’s true anyway.”

Silence stretched for a moment. Then another voice—smooth, deep, carrying weight like thunder on the horizon.

“Well… people also know you as the girl with insanely beautiful eyes.”

The world stilled.

My head snapped up before I could stop myself.

Easton Amalfitano leaned lazily against a table a few feet away, arms crossed, golden eyes fixed on me like he was peeling back my layers one by one.

Heat flared under my skin. My breath caught. No one had ever called my eyes beautiful. Not once. They were a curse, something to hide.

And yet… coming from him…

“That’s true, Aurora,” Ryan said softly, offering me a kind smile.

Finn, for once, didn’t joke. His grin faltered into something gentler, like he regretted teasing me earlier.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, fidgeting with my straw. “Uhm, thanks.” My voice cracked.

But Easton didn’t look away. His gaze was steady, piercing, almost unbearable. Like he was memorizing me. Like he already knew me.

A shiver ran through me.

“We should leave,” Easton said suddenly, his accent thick and commanding. The sound of his voice made something in my chest tighten painfully.

Finn groaned, already reaching for the muffin box again. “Can I take some more? They taste so freaking good. And maybe your coffee too?”

“Finn,” Ryan snapped, exasperated.

“What? She said it’s fine!”

I surprised myself by laughing softly. “It’s okay.”

Finn’s face lit up, boyish and unguarded. “You’re the best. Thanks, cutie.”

My cheeks burned.

Then, without hesitation, he scooped up the entire box of muffins.

“Finn!” Ryan groaned.

Finn just grinned shamelessly, cradling the box like treasure.

Ryan shook his head and pulled out his wallet. “At least let me pay for them—”

“No, it’s fine,” I interrupted quickly. “I wouldn’t have finished them all anyway.”

“You sure?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Ryan gave me a small nod, accepting my answer.

As they stood to leave, Easton paused at the door.

And looked back.

Right at me.

The world blurred—the chatter, the clinking cups, the hiss of the espresso machine. All I could see was him. All I could feel was the way his golden eyes locked onto mine, heavy and searching.

We held each other’s gaze for what felt like forever. Then, just as quickly, he turned away and disappeared into the night.

The café seemed quieter after they left, like the air had shifted.

I slumped in my chair, letting out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My pulse still raced, my hands trembling against the book I hadn’t read a single word of.

Shock hit first.

Then excitement.

Then confusion.

And finally, like a shadow creeping back over me, sadness.

By the time I walked home, the thrill of being noticed had dulled, replaced by the familiar ache of loneliness. The streets were dark, the pools of streetlight glowing cold and sterile. My footsteps echoed on the pavement, each one heavier than the last.

When I reached my house, the silence pressed against me like a weight. No voices. No laughter. No warmth. Just darkness waiting to swallow me whole.

It didn’t matter what kind of day I had—whether I had muffins, or lattes, or golden-eyed boys staring at me. The ending was always the same.

Home was empty.

And for a brief moment, I had felt like I belonged.

But that feeling was already slipping away.