Chapter 3 — Wet Floors and Worse Timing
1274 Words
By the time Friday rolled around, Elian had convinced himself that Adrian Vale’s presence in town was nothing more than a weird coincidence.
Famous people needed peace too, right? Maybe the guy was here to meditate, write poetry, or bully squirrels in the park. Whatever. As long as he stayed out of Elian’s store, the world could keep spinning.
Unfortunately, fate had the emotional maturity of a toddler with crayons.
It started with a phone call.
“Elian, sweetheart,” came Mrs. Barlow’s voice—the owner of the new bed-and-breakfast, The Honeybrook Inn. She had the kind of tone that made refusal impossible. “We’re out of the usual candles again. Guests keep saying they smell like happiness, so of course I need more.”
Elian smiled despite himself. “No problem, Mrs. Barlow. I’ll pack a few boxes and bring them by after lunch.”
“You’re an angel. Oh, and bring a few extra bags of those almond cookies, won’t you? The gentleman in Room 3 can’t seem to stop eating them.”
“Got it.” He scribbled it down. “See you soon.”
The gentleman in Room 3, huh? Probably some retired professor or a tired businessman. He didn’t think about it again—until two hours later, when he stood at the Honeybrook’s front desk and saw him.
Adrian Vale.
In a plain white shirt, sleeves rolled up, arguing with the receptionist about something deeply serious, judging by his tone.
Elian’s first thought: Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
His second: Why does he look even more unfairly attractive when he’s angry?
He ducked his head, pretending to focus on the box of candles in his arms. Maybe if he moved fast enough, Adrian wouldn’t notice him.
“Delivery for Mrs. Barlow,” he said quickly. “Candles and almond cookies.”
Mrs. Barlow’s cheerful voice floated from the back office. “Oh, Elian, dear! You’re a lifesaver—bring them right in!”
Too late. Adrian’s gaze lifted.
And there it was—that same cutting stare that could slice through politeness and leave sarcasm bleeding.
“You,” he said flatly.
Elian froze mid-step. “Me?”
Adrian crossed his arms. “You work here too?”
“No,” Elian said, forcing a smile. “Just delivering supplies. My store provides their groceries and candles. Remember? Sunny Mart.”
A beat passed. Recognition flickered in Adrian’s eyes, followed by the faintest hint of something that wasn’t quite annoyance—more like reluctant awareness.
“I remember,” he said, voice dry. “You’re the chatty one.”
Elian bristled. “And you’re still allergic to basic human decency, I see.”
Mrs. Barlow appeared then, all warmth and chaos wrapped in floral perfume. “Oh, you two know each other? Wonderful!”
Adrian opened his mouth, probably to deny it, but Elian beat him to it.
“Barely,” he said with a smile that felt like biting into ice.
Mrs. Barlow clapped her hands. “Then you’ll get along splendidly! Adrian’s been a dear, helping me move some furniture into the storage room. Maybe you could give him a hand, Elian?”
Elian blinked. “I—”
Adrian’s jaw tensed. “That’s really not—”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Barlow shooed them toward the back hallway. “It’ll only take a few minutes, and I’ll fetch you both some lemonade when you’re done.”
Elian sighed as they walked down the corridor lined with floral wallpaper. “You know, this feels like a trap.”
Adrian didn’t reply.
The storage room door creaked open, revealing a small space filled with boxes and a very stubborn wooden dresser. Elian set his candle box aside.
“So,” he said, folding his sleeves. “Which end do you want?”
“The quiet one,” Adrian muttered.
“Right. I’ll take the other then.”
They lifted the dresser together, the air thick with the scent of lemon polish and suppressed irritation.
“You’re stronger than you look,” Elian said, breaking the silence. “Do all actors work out this much, or are you preparing for another role?”
Adrian’s reply was clipped. “You always talk this much?”
“Only when the other person glares at me like I’ve committed tax fraud.”
Adrian huffed. Not quite a laugh—but close enough that Elian caught it.
They maneuvered the dresser into place. Adrian straightened first, breathing a little heavier than he wanted to show. There was sweat at his temple, and for a strange second, Elian found himself wanting to reach out and brush it away.
Bad idea.
He turned quickly, pretending to dust his hands. “There. Mission accomplished.”
Adrian nodded once. “Thanks.”
And that might’ve been the end of it—if the universe didn’t hate Elian’s peace of mind.
Because as he picked up the empty candle box, his vision blurred for half a second. The room tilted.
Not now.
He blinked hard, gripping the wall. His stomach felt hollow—he’d skipped breakfast again, hadn’t he? Lunch too, come to think of it.
Adrian noticed. “Hey.”
“I’m fine,” Elian said automatically, forcing a weak smile.
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m—” He stumbled.
Adrian’s hand shot out, steadying him by the arm. The grip was firm, grounding. “You’re pale.”
Elian laughed it off, though it came out shaky. “It’s just… the room’s stuffy. I’m good.”
Adrian didn’t look convinced. His brows furrowed, the gruff mask flickering into something unexpectedly human. “Sit down before you fall down.”
“I’m not—”
“Sit.”
There was no arguing with that tone.
Elian sank onto a crate, pressing his palms together. “Okay, fine. Maybe I forgot to eat. Once. Or twice.”
Adrian gave him a long, unreadable look, then rummaged in his coat pocket and handed over a protein bar. “Here.”
Elian blinked. “What—where did—”
“Publicity events,” Adrian said shortly. “People hand them out like business cards.”
Elian hesitated, then unwrapped it. His stomach growled, betraying him completely.
Adrian smirked. “Thought so.”
“Don’t look so smug.” Elian took a bite, glaring half-heartedly. “I’d thank you if you weren’t so annoyingly right.”
“You could still try.”
“Fine.” He swallowed another mouthful. “Thanks.”
Adrian shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”
They sat in silence for a moment—the kind that wasn’t awkward, but heavy with something neither of them wanted to name.
Then Mrs. Barlow’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Boys? Lemonade’s ready!”
Elian exhaled and stood, brushing his hands off. “Saved by citrus.”
Adrian’s lips twitched—almost a smile. Almost.
As they walked back out together, Elian felt something unsettling stir in his chest. Maybe it was gratitude, maybe curiosity. Or maybe it was the way Adrian had looked at him just now—like he wasn’t just another person passing through.
He pushed the thought away. “Thanks again, for… you know.”
Adrian glanced at him, tone softer than expected. “Eat next time.”
And just like that, he walked ahead, leaving Elian staring after him—half annoyed, half intrigued, and completely doomed.
Because somehow, against all logic, Adrian Vale had managed to wedge himself into his day again.
And this time, Elian had a sinking feeling he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
- Writer
