Chapter 3: Complications and Conversations
1310 Words
The next few days pass in a blur of confusion and frustration. Every time I think I can shake off the events of the Christmas party, something—or someone—pulls me right back in.
It starts on Sunday morning when I’m walking to the grocery store. Willow Ridge is buzzing with holiday energy—kids building snowmen in their front yards, couples strolling hand-in-hand under twinkling lights, and carolers rehearsing for the upcoming Christmas Eve Gala. But I’m not in the holiday spirit. My thoughts are too crowded with questions about the Harper triplets.
“Hey, Moraine!”
The sound of Ethan’s voice makes me stop in my tracks. I turn to see him leaning casually against a lamppost, his ever-present guitar slung over his back. He’s wearing a wool coat and a scarf, his blond curls peeking out from under a beanie.
“Ethan,” I say cautiously. “What are you doing here?”
He grins. “Shopping for my mom. She sent me to get some last-minute decorations.” He holds up a bag filled with tinsel and ornaments. “But I spotted you, so I figured I’d say hi.”
“Hi,” I reply flatly.
Ethan’s grin doesn’t falter. “You’re not still mad about the mistletoe thing, are you?”
“I wasn’t mad,” I say, folding my arms. “Just… confused.”
“Well, let me clear it up for you,” he says, stepping closer. “We kissed you because we wanted to. Not because of some silly mistletoe tradition or a dare or anything like that.”
I blink, caught off guard by his honesty. “All three of you?”
“Yup.” He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re interesting, Moraine. Different from the other girls in this town. We noticed.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Ethan takes the opportunity to flash me another smile.
“Anyway, I’ve got to finish Mom’s shopping before she sends out a search party. See you around, Moraine.”
He gives me a little wave and walks off, leaving me standing in the snow, my heart pounding in my chest.
By Monday, I’m starting to think the Harper triplets are actively trying to drive me insane.
It’s my day off, so I decide to spend the afternoon at the ice rink. Skating always helps me clear my head, and after the past few days, I desperately need some clarity.
The rink is quiet when I arrive, with only a handful of skaters gliding across the ice. I lace up my skates and step onto the rink, letting the cold air and the rhythmic sound of my blades calm my nerves.
But my peace is short-lived.
“Need a partner?”
I turn to see Lucas standing at the edge of the rink, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. His dark hair is slightly tousled, and his blue eyes sparkle with amusement.
“Do you always sneak up on people like this?” I ask, my tone more annoyed than I intend.
“Only the interesting ones,” he replies, stepping onto the ice with the kind of effortless grace that makes me instantly jealous.
“I’m not in the mood for company,” I say, turning away.
“Good thing I’m not just ‘company,’” Lucas says, falling into step beside me.
I glare at him, but he only smirks.
“Seriously, Moraine,” he says, his tone softening. “We didn’t mean to mess with your head. We just… like you. And we’re not going to apologize for that.”
“You barely know me,” I argue.
Lucas shrugs. “Maybe. But what we do know, we like. So give us a chance, okay?”
I don’t respond. Instead, I skate away, hoping the distance will help me think.
Tuesday is even worse.
I’m halfway through my shift at The Cozy Cup when Matthew walks in. The café is busy, filled with holiday shoppers warming up with coffee and pastries, but Matthew stands out immediately. He’s wearing a tailored coat and a scarf that looks like it cost more than my entire wardrobe.
“Moraine,” he says, stepping up to the counter.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“Getting coffee,” he says, flashing me that devastatingly confident smile. “And seeing you.”
I sigh, grabbing a cup and scribbling his name on it. “What do you want?”
“A caramel latte,” he says. Then he leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “And maybe a conversation.”
I roll my eyes but start making his drink. “What about?”
“About us,” he says simply.
“There is no ‘us,’” I say, repeating the words I told him a few days ago.
“Not yet,” Matthew counters. “But I’m willing to wait.”
I hand him his latte, avoiding his gaze. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. “But you’ll come around.”
With that, he leaves, and I’m left standing behind the counter, my coworkers staring at me with wide eyes.
“Was that Matthew Harper?” one of them whispers.
“Yeah,” I mutter, already dreading the gossip that’s sure to follow.
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By Wednesday, I’m officially done.
I walk into the Cozy Cup for my afternoon shift, determined to put the triplets out of my mind. But as soon as I step through the door, I see them—all three of them—sitting at a table near the window.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath.
They see me immediately, and Ethan waves cheerfully. Lucas gives me a nod, and Matthew flashes a knowing smile.
I consider turning around and walking right back out the door, but my manager is already waving me over to the counter. With a resigned sigh, I put on my apron and get to work.
The triplets don’t leave. In fact, they stay for hours, sipping their coffee and chatting like they own the place. Every so often, one of them glances in my direction, and I feel my cheeks heat up.
Finally, as I’m cleaning up at the end of my shift, Matthew approaches the counter.
“Long day?” he asks, his voice warm and genuine.
“What do you want, Matthew?” I ask tiredly.
“Just to talk,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “No pressure.”
I sigh, leaning against the counter. “Why are you three so determined to get my attention?”
“Because we see something in you,” he says simply. “Something special.”
His words catch me off guard, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say.
Before I can respond, Ethan and Lucas join him at the counter.
“We’re not trying to overwhelm you,” Ethan says, his tone unusually serious.
“We just want to get to know you,” Lucas adds. “The real you.”
I look at them, my mind racing. Part of me wants to push them away, to tell them to leave me alone. But another part—a small, stubborn part—wonders if maybe, just maybe, they mean what they’re saying.
“All right,” I say finally. “One chance. That’s all you get.”
The triplets exchange triumphant grins, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve just made a deal with the devil.
But as I look at them, I realize something else: maybe this holiday season won’t be so bad after all.
- Writer
