The evening air had a bite to it—cool enough to warrant a hoodie, not cold enough to justify regretting the decision. I’d just left the office, walking with no real purpose except to pick up dinner and maybe pretend that the rest of the day hadn’t been the social equivalent of stepping in gum.

  I passed the usual landmarks: the vape-and-boba shop, the bar with the broken neon ‘O’ that turned “COORS ON TAP” into “C_RS _N TAP,” and the always-slightly-threatening alley that gave off strong side quest energy. Same street, same smells.

  The sun was going down, bathing everything in a warm amber glow. It should’ve felt relaxing. Familiar. Instead, the world felt... tuned wrong. Like the sharpness setting had been cranked up. The street looked the same as always, but somehow the light hit it different. The colors were just a bit too saturated. The breeze carried smells that were sharper, stronger—like baked pizza goodness from half a block away punched me right in the nose and reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since the middle of the day.

  My phone buzzed, and for once, I didn’t check it. I needed five minutes of not spiraling.

  That’s when I saw her.

  She wasn’t doing anything special. Just standing outside a café, one hand resting on her hip, the other holding her phone like she was checking directions. Her hair—a bold, unapologetic red—seemed to burn in the fading sunlight. Freckles dotted her cheeks like constellations. She wore a simple white blouse and a flared skirt that swayed with the breeze, all paired with boots that screamed confidence and a low tolerance for nonsense.

  She didn’t glow. She radiated. She was lit like a filter. The kind of glow people spend hours trying to fake with editing apps and very expensive ring lights.

  Not in a magical way—at least, not like Euryale. This wasn’t the stillness of someone freezing time around her. This was the opposite. The world reacted to her. Colors pulsed brighter in her presence. The smells on the wind became layered—sugar, salt, butter, smoke. Sound, even distant traffic, took on rhythm, like background music synced to her heartbeat.

  It was overwhelming.

  And yet, I could cut through it. Like blinking past a lens flare. Her pull was real, but it didn’t drag me under. I stayed on my feet. My heart raced, sure, but it was the good kind. The “you’re talking to the hot NPC” kind. Not the “you’re about to pass out” kind I got from Euryale.

  Still, something about her made everything around me feel... dialed up. Like the world was trying to impress her. Or hide her.

  I cleared my throat as I approached. “Hey, um... you okay? You look kinda... I dunno. Lost?”

  She looked at me like I’d pulled her out of a dream. Green—eyes so green it felt like looking at a piece of fresh grass under a microscope. There was something else there too, though. Surprise. Confusion. Maybe even curiosity.

  Her gaze didn’t freeze me like Euryale’s had. It did something worse—it invited me. Like a secret I wasn’t supposed to know. Like I was allowed to look and encouraged to keep doing so.

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  “I guess I am,” she said, her voice soft but layered. “I’m trying to find somewhere to eat. First time in the city.”

  Bingo. Cue the part of my brain that activates whenever food is mentioned.

  “Oh, then you’re in luck.” I gestured down the block. “There’s a café that way. It’s not fancy, but they make one hell of a grilled cheese.”

  Her lips curved slightly. “Grilled cheese?”

  I nodded, already in too deep. “Yeah, but like... not just any grilled cheese. They do it with sourdough, butter both sides, three cheeses melted just enough to fuse into a golden lava situation. Add tomato soup and you’ve got comfort food nirvana.”

  She didn’t respond immediately, so I pressed on, because if there’s one thing I can do with confidence, it’s describing food like I’m auditioning for a Travel Channel segment.

  Her lips twitched into a smile. Not coy. Not seductive. Just… amused. “You go there a lot?”

  “Only on days that end in ‘y.’” Never one to need encouragement to talk about food, I rambled on, “If you’re into sweet stuff,” I added, “their cinnamon rolls are massive. Like, the kind that come with regret baked in. Soft center, icing dripping down the side, warm enough to make you question your life choices—in a good way.”

  She took a step toward me, and the air between us crackled. Not literally. I wasn’t struck by lightning or anything. But something shifted. Like the humidity went up. Or the mood lighting dimmed. Or my blood pressure did something deeply irresponsible. She was watching me now, not like I was weird, but like she was... delighted? Amused?

  “And if you’re the cozy type,” I continued, “the hot chocolate is legit. They don’t water it down, and they use real chocolate. With marshmallows. Plural.”

  A slow grin crept across her face. “You really love food, huh?”

  “I mean,” I said, shrugging like I hadn’t just performed a TED Talk on grilled cheese, “it’s one of the few things in life that never lets you down.”

  She laughed, quiet but real. “That’s fair.”

  “Phone?” I asked, holding out my hand. “I’ll drop a pin.”

  She handed it over. Her fingers brushed mine again, and the static was back, sharp and warm, like the moment right before you touch something you’re not supposed to.

  I plugged in the location and handed it back, trying not to let my own hands shake.

  “There you go,” I said. “Café Nido. Run by a guy named Dennis who wears too many bracelets and plays lo-fi music through the kitchen speakers. Great vibes. Zero stress.”

  Her smile faded just a little. Not sadness, exactly. Something else. A kind of hesitation. “What about you?” she asked. “Are you heading there now?”

  “Nah,” I said, patting my stomach. “I already ordered takeout from a different place... whole garlic-forward situation. Planning to spend the night with a couch, a blanket, and a totally reasonable amount of streaming.”

  She looked at me for a moment too long. Then: “You sure you don’t want company?”

  I panicked, which meant my body responded by locking up and emitting what I can only describe as a dying-dolphin laugh.

  “I, uh... didn’t order enough food for two?” It came out like a question, like I was unsure if I had or not. “But maybe next time?”

  She tilted her head, considering that. I got the feeling she wasn’t used to being turned down. Or maybe just surprised it hadn’t worked. But she didn’t seem upset. If anything, her interest deepened.

  “Your phone, then?”

  I blinked. “Wait, my phone?”

  “In case I get lost.”

  My brain lit every warning bell at once. The scent in the air intensified—honeysuckle, spice, ozone. My stomach churned in the way it does right before you step into a haunted house.

  Right on cue, my phone rang. Elly.

  Saved by chaos.

  “Sorry,” I said, holding up the screen. “Gotta take this.”

  Her eyes narrowed just a touch. “Of course.”

  I turned and walked. Fast. Not running, but with purpose.

  Behind me, I could feel her still watching. The scent of something sweet and sharp lingered in the air like her presence had weight. I made it two blocks before I remembered how to breathe properly.

  I didn’t know what just happened.

  But I knew this: I’d just dodged something I didn’t understand.

  And I was definitely going to see her again. That’s how my life worked.