Chapter Two: THE STRANGER WITH MY EYES
1517 Words
THE STRANGER WITH MY EYES
I’ve always believed that silence has a sound.
In my home, it hums like disappointment soft, constant, and impossible to escape.
Tonight, the sound is louder.
Maybe because Mom is pretending to be asleep on the couch again, one arm thrown across her eyes like she’s shielding herself from a world that stopped treating her gently a long time ago. Or maybe it’s because I can still smell the roses Dad gave his mistress today, tucked inside the backseat of our SUV as if they belonged to us.
Everything in my house is a lie wrapped in prettier lies.
“I’m heading out,” I call softly, even though Mom won’t respond.
She doesn’t.
I close the door behind me and exhale into the cool night air of Bishop Heights one of those polished suburban slices just outside the city where everyone pretends to have perfect lives. The street lamps glow like pearls lining the sidewalk as I take my skateboard and push off, gliding downhill.
Wind in my hair.
Music in my headphones.
Freedom for a few minutes.
It’s the only time my heartbeat feels normal.
My twin brother, Adrian, usually rides with me, but tonight he has a shift at the café where he works part-time. So it’s just me, the night, and the nagging feeling that something in my life is on the brink of changing.
I don’t know why but I can feel it.
The universe doesn’t whisper. It announces.
I’m halfway down the hill when I hear the screech.
A car door slamming.
A sharp curse.
And then I see him.
A guy maybe my age, tall, lean, dressed like he walked out of a magazine photo shoot even though his expression is a mess of frustration and exhaustion. He’s standing outside a sleek black car that has apparently decided to die in the middle of the road.
I should keep skating.
Strangers are complications.
But something stops me.
Maybe it’s the way the streetlight hits his face.
Or the weird tightness in my chest.
Or maybe just maybe it’s because for a split second, when he lifts his face toward me
I swear I’m staring at my brother’s eyes.
Same shade of storm-gray.
Same shape.
Same intensity.
I stumble. My skateboard wobbles.
Get a grip, Aria.
Not everyone with gray eyes is your family. You’re not living inside a cliché drama.
Still…I fall off the board and catch myself with an ungraceful hop.
Smooth.
The guy looks up sharply. “You okay?”
His voice deep, firm, a little rasped hits me harder than it should.
“I’m fine.” I grab my board and walk toward him before logic can stop me. “Car trouble?”
He raises a brow. “Unless this is a new form of meditation my engine’s trying out, yeah.”
I laugh unexpected, too loud.
He smirks faintly.
And just like that, the night tilts into something strange.
“I’m Aria,” I say, because silence suddenly feels wrong.
“Liam.”
Liam.
Even his name feels like a sharp, stolen breath.
He glances at my skateboard. “You always ride around at night?”
“Only when I need to escape the noise.”
He studies me for a long second, as if that simple answer says more about me than it should.
“I get that,” he says quietly.
There’s a heaviness behind his words a weighted truth he’s not saying.
I want to ask.
I don’t.
“What happened to your car?” I ask instead.
He sighs. “Battery died. I left my lights on. Genius move, I know.”
I shrug. “Happens to the best of us.”
“To the best of idiots, you mean,” he mutters.
I smile.
He smiles back.
Something about him feels…familiar.
Not familiar like I’ve seen him before.
Familiar like I should have seen him before.
“Do you live around here?” he asks.
“Yeah. Up the hill. You?”
The shift in his expression is rapid almost like a flinch.
“No,” he says. “Just passing through.”
The lie is too smooth.
I’ve grown up studying lies the way Dad tells them, the way Mom crumbles under them, the way we survive between them. I can smell one from a mile away.
But I let it go.
For now.
“I can call my brother,” I offer. “He has jumper cables.”
“No.” The refusal comes too quickly. “I don’t want to bother anyone.”
“You’re stuck in the middle of the road,” I point out.
He looks down the street, jaw tightening. “I know.”
I tilt my head. “You could at least pretend you need help.”
He laughs. It’s soft, surprised like he hadn’t expected to find humor in his night.
As he looks up again, his eyes catch in the light and damn it there’s that same pull in my chest.
My heartbeat stutters.
I don’t believe in fate.
I don’t believe in destiny.
I barely believe in hope.
But this feels like standing on the edge of something I can’t name.
Or maybe something I’m afraid to name.
“Fine,” he says. “Call your brother.”
I pull out my phone and send Adrian a quick text, avoiding the part where he’ll tease me mercilessly for helping some stranger with model-level cheekbones. Meanwhile, Liam leans against his car, crossing his arms.
He looks exhausted.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like someone who carries too many secrets and can’t put any of them down.
“Long day?” I ask.
He scoffs. “More like a long life.”
I blink. “That sounds dramatic.”
He shrugs. “It’s dramatic when it feels real.”
For a few seconds we don’t speak.
The night expands around us quiet, heavy, waiting.
I take a breath. “Do you live with your parents?”
He exhales, glancing away. “No. My mom is… I mean, she’s around. But home isn’t really home.”
A familiar ache stirs in me.
“Same,” I say softly.
His eyes find mine again. Not curious. Not prying.
Just…understanding.
Before we can unpack that odd, fragile moment, I hear footsteps running up the hill.
“Ariaaaa!” Adrian panting, dramatic as always. “Why are you dragging me out at oh.” He spots Liam. Then spots the car. Then, in typical twin fashion, decides to be suspicious. “Who’s this dude?”
“Liam,” I say.
“Her boyfriend,” Liam says at the same time.
My head snaps toward him. “What? I ”
He smirks. “Relax. He looked like he was about to interrogate me.”
Adrian narrows his eyes. “I was.”
“Oh my God,” I groan.
But Adrian is already circling Liam like a mall cop in training. “Where are you from? Why is your car here? Do you have a license?”
“I’m not answering that,” Liam says, amused. “Especially the license part.”
Adrian huffs. “Suspicious.”
“Adrian, jump the car,” I snap.
He rolls his eyes dramatically but opens the trunk of his old blue hatchback. “Fine. But if he’s a serial killer, I take no responsibility.”
Liam chuckles. “Noted.”
We get the cables connected.
The engine sputters.
Coughs.
Then roars to life.
Liam looks genuinely relieved for a fleeting second.
Then something shutters over his expression. A quiet dread.
It strikes me again the weight behind his eyes.
“Thank you,” he says.
“No big deal,” I reply.
“It is,” he says quietly. “You have no idea.”
He seems like he wants to say more, but he stops himself.
Instead, he reaches into his car, pulls out a small silver keychain, and presses it into my hand.
A tiny metal feather.
“It’s for luck,” he says. “You look like someone who deserves more of it.”
I stare at it.
At him.
At the strange, impossible familiarity between us.
My throat tightens. “You don’t even know me.”
He smiles, slow and soft. “Maybe I do.”
My heart trips.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I whisper.
He opens his car door. “One day, you’ll understand.”
“Liam ”
He gets in, starts the engine, and drives away.
I stand there, the feather warm in my hand, watching his taillights disappear down the dark road.
Adrian nudges me. “Weird guy.”
I can’t deny it.
But the strangest part?
As I tuck the feather into my pocket, a sharp, electric certainty rushes through me
That boy is going to change everything.
My world.
My family.
My truth.
And the secrets buried under our lives.
I don’t know how.
I don’t know why.
But something deep inside me whispers:
This is the beginning.
And endings
They always come for the beginning.
- Writer
