Chapter 2 — Arielle
660 Words
She didn’t plan to stop.
Arielle told herself that as she slowed near the square, as the scent of something warm and savory cut through the cold. The food truck was lit up like it belonged there, parked at the edge of the lot with a short line of people bundled in coats, hands tucked into pockets.
She hesitated.
It wasn’t hunger, exactly. More curiosity. Or maybe habit—she was used to grabbing food wherever she could, whenever it was available, fitting meals into the spaces between obligations.
She stepped closer before she could overthink it.
The truck was simple. No flashy branding. Just a clean white exterior, a small chalkboard menu propped beside the window, handwritten and slightly crooked. Tonight’s Special was underlined twice.
She scanned it absently.
“You know it’s cold enough to justify ordering extra fries,” a voice said.
She looked up.
He was leaning out the window slightly, elbows braced on the counter, dark knit beanie pulled low. There was an ease to him that caught her off guard—not practiced charm, just comfort. Like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
“I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “I just didn’t want to admit it.”
He smiled at that. Not wide. Just enough.
“Smart,” he said. “What’ll it be?”
She ordered without thinking too hard. When he repeated it back, she noticed his hands—steady, efficient, moving like he’d done this a thousand times and still paid attention every time.
“Name?” he asked.
“Arielle.”
He nodded. “Luke.”
Simple. No extra weight on it.
She stepped aside to wait, rubbing her hands together for warmth. That was when she noticed the little girl sitting on a folding chair near the truck, bundled in a puffy pink coat, boots dangling a few inches off the ground. She was holding a juice box with both hands, staring at Arielle with open curiosity.
Arielle smiled without thinking.
The girl blinked, then waved.
“Hi,” Arielle said.
“Hi,” the girl replied, solemn.
Luke glanced over his shoulder. “Mia, don’t stare.”
“I’m not,” Mia said immediately. “I’m lookin’.”
Arielle bit back a smile.
Luke shook his head like this was a familiar argument. “You good over there?”
Mia nodded. “I got juice.”
“Okay.”
He turned back to Arielle. “Sorry. She’s very invested in everything.”
“That’s okay,” Arielle said. “I respect a thorough evaluation.”
Luke laughed at that, a quiet sound, surprised. “You’re being assessed.”
“I figured.”
Her food was ready a moment later. Luke handed it over, fingers brushing hers briefly. It wasn’t sparks. It wasn’t anything dramatic.
It was just warm.
“Enjoy,” he said.
“I will,” she replied, meaning more than the food.
She stepped away, found an empty bench near the edge of the square, and ate with the quiet hum of town life around her. She didn’t rush. Didn’t check her phone.
When she glanced back, Luke was serving the next customer, focused, present. Mia was humming softly to herself, swinging her feet.
Something about the scene settled into her chest.
Not longing. Not want.
Recognition.
When she finished, she stood and tossed her trash, hesitating for half a second before walking back.
“Hey,” she said.
Luke looked up. “Hey.”
“That was really good,” she added. “I might be back.”
He smiled again—small, easy. “We’ll be here.”
As she walked away, Arielle told herself it was just food.
Just a truck.
Just a town she didn’t live in anymore.
Just two weeks.
She didn’t notice the way she slowed when she reached the corner, or the way she glanced back once more before heading home.
- Writer
