Chapter 4 —Snacks, Silence, and Almosts
1079 Words
Adrian Vale hadn’t come back to the Honeybrook after that afternoon.
At least, not that Elian knew of.
For two whole days, silence stretched between them like a taut thread—thin but unbroken.
And somehow, that made it worse.
He shouldn’t be thinking about it, about him, about the way Adrian’s hand had closed around his arm or the way his voice had dropped when he said, Eat next time.
It was embarrassing. Humiliating, even. He’d fainted—almost fainted—in front of a literal celebrity. And of course, the celebrity had to be the one person in town who looked like sin and glared like he was allergic to joy.
Elian tossed the thought aside and focused on more manageable disasters, like movie night.
Noah and Luca had already taken over his couch by the time he got home, bowls of popcorn and chips spread out like an altar to junk food.
The opening credits of a rom-com flickered across the TV, and Noah was narrating loudly even though no one had asked him to.
“See, the guy doesn’t know he’s in love yet,” Noah said through a mouthful of popcorn. “But that’s how you know it’s real.”
Luca smiled indulgently. “You’ve seen this movie eight times.”
“Yeah, because it’s art.”
Elian laughed weakly and sat cross-legged on the floor, pretending to be invested.
He reached for a handful of popcorn—and froze halfway.
The smell of butter hit him first, warm and heavy.
He stared at the kernels glistening with oil, heard the steady crunch-crunch of Noah chewing, the fizz of soda being opened, the echo of every calorie counted in the back of his mind.
You don’t need it.
You already ate earlier.
Well, sort of.
He dropped the popcorn back into the bowl and wiped his fingers on his jeans. “I’m gonna grab some air,” he said, a little too quickly.
Noah looked over, mid-chew. “It’s raining again, you know.”
“I like the rain.”
“You’re weird.”
“Thanks. Lock up when you leave.”
He slipped out before either of them could argue.
~•~
The air outside was cool and smelled faintly of wet asphalt. Elian shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, letting the drizzle speckle his hair. His store sat dark across the street, its neon Open sign off for the night. The quiet was nice—soothing, even.
Until a shadow moved in front of the shop’s window.
He stopped short.
Someone was standing there, hood pulled up, staring through the glass like he was trying to remember something he’d lost.
Then the stranger turned—and, of course, it was Adrian Vale.
Elian’s heart did an annoying little leap. “Seriously?”
Adrian blinked at him, expression unreadable. “Seriously what?”
“You again,” Elian said, walking closer. “Are you haunting my store now? Should I call an exorcist?”
Adrian’s mouth twitched. “It was on my way.”
“On your way where? The only thing past here is a laundromat and a cat that hates everyone.”
“Then maybe I was visiting the cat.”
Elian laughed before he could stop himself. “She’d probably like you, actually. You both hiss when people get too close.”
“Only when they deserve it.”
“Sure.” Elian leaned against the lamppost. “So what, you just wander around town after dark in a hoodie now? Doesn’t seem very ‘Hollywood’ of you.”
“Maybe I needed quiet,” Adrian said simply.
The honesty in his tone caught Elian off guard. He looked… tired, the sharp edges of his usual expression softened by the low streetlight.
For a moment, neither spoke. The rain had turned to mist, settling like a secret between them.
Elian kicked at a loose pebble. “You ever miss being invisible?”
Adrian’s gaze flicked to him. “Every day.”
There was something about the way he said it—low, stripped of his usual defenses—that made Elian’s chest tighten.
They started walking without really deciding to. The road wound past shuttered shops, their footsteps echoing on wet pavement.
“Mrs. Barlow says you’re staying for a while,” Elian said eventually.
Adrian nodded. “Couple of weeks. Needed to get away from cameras. People.”
“Guess you picked the right town. We barely know what privacy invasion means here. The most dramatic thing last month was someone stealing a pie from the bakery.”
“Riveting,” Adrian said dryly.
“You joke, but the whole neighborhood was in chaos for two days.”
That earned a small, reluctant smile—the kind that looked foreign on Adrian’s face but suited him unfairly well.
They paused under the awning of a closed café as the rain thickened again. Elian turned toward him, words balancing on the edge of his tongue.
“I didn’t get to thank you properly. For… you know. The protein bar.”
“You did,” Adrian said. “Sort of.”
“Then I’ll do it again. Properly. Thanks.”
Adrian met his gaze. “You’re welcome.”
Something shifted in the air—subtle but unmistakable. The world seemed to narrow to the small space between them, to the way Adrian’s eyes searched his like he was trying to solve a riddle.
The sound of rain softened, their breaths the only thing filling the silence.
Elian’s pulse stuttered. He could smell the faint hint of Adrian’s cologne—woodsy, clean, expensive. His brain whispered don’t move but his heart didn’t listen.
He took half a step closer.
Adrian didn’t back away.
Their eyes met, the distance shrinking until Elian could see the raindrops clinging to Adrian’s lashes.
For a heartbeat, it felt inevitable.
Then headlights swept past as a car turned the corner, the spell breaking. Elian blinked and stepped back, laughing under his breath. “Guess the universe says no.”
Adrian’s voice was quiet. “Maybe not ‘no.’ Maybe ‘not yet.’”
Elian looked at him—really looked—and realized he might be in more trouble than he thought.
“Walk you back?” Adrian asked.
“Sure,” Elian said softly.
They moved down the street side by side, silence folding around them again—but this time, it wasn’t empty.
- Writer
