Chapter 3

Noah didn’t lose the game.

He probably should have.

He missed more passes than usual, mistimed a jump, laughed it off when someone yelled about his focus drifting. Somehow, it didn’t matter. The score blurred together. The shouting felt distant, like it was happening a few steps behind him instead of all around.

“Earth to Noah.”

Noah turned, blinking, to find Theo standing beside him with a towel slung over one shoulder and an eyebrow raised. Theo had that look—the one that meant he’d been watching Noah longer than Noah realized.

“You good?” Theo asked. “You’ve been zoning out since, like… forever.”

Noah laughed automatically, pushing his curls back from his face. “Relax. I’m fine.”

Theo snorted. “You’re never ‘fine’ when you start lying about it.”

Before Noah could answer, someone splashed water at his calves and ran past, shouting. Noah jogged after them half-heartedly, but his energy wasn’t fully there anymore. When the group finally scattered toward towels and coolers, Noah grabbed his shirt, tugged it on halfway, then gave up and let it hang loose around his shoulders.

Theo noticed. Of course he did. He’s my best friend.

“You gonna sit, or are you planning on pacing the entire beach?” Theo asked, dropping onto the sand beside him.

“In a minute,” Noah said. He laughed again, softer this time, pushing his hair back out of habit. The motion didn’t settle him the way it usually did.

Theo followed Noah’s gaze without comment.

They both saw him.

Elias stood closer to the water now, shoes placed neatly beside a towel. He wasn’t doing anything—just watching the lake, hands loose at his sides, posture calm like he belonged to stillness itself. Sunlight caught in his dark hair, and for a second Noah wondered what it would look like messed up. Windblown. Touched.

Theo hummed quietly. “That the reason you’ve been playing like garbage?”

Noah scoffed. “Shut up.”

But he didn’t look away.

Elias turned.

Their eyes met again.

Noah felt it this time—a pull low in his chest, persistent and irritating in the worst way. Elias didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. Just watched him back, those blue eyes steady and unreadable, like deep water that didn’t care if you could swim.

The noise of the beach seemed to fade.

Noah swallowed.

He lifted a hand in a half-wave he hadn’t planned. Elias hesitated, then inclined his head slightly in return. The gesture was small.

It felt huge.

Noah looked away first, heart thudding. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Jesus,” he muttered.

Theo studied him. “You don’t usually look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you just forgot how legs work.”

Noah rolled his eyes, though his chest still felt tight. “You’re dramatic.”

“Mm,” Theo said, unconvinced.

Later, Noah sat with his family, a cold bottle of water sweating in his hand. His mom nudged his knee gently with her foot. “You’re quiet,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” Noah replied, smiling. He laughed and pushed his hair back again, the movement easy and familiar. “Just tired.”

She accepted it without question. She always did. His parents trusted him—trusted that he’d figure things out in his own time. That trust sat warm and steady in his chest.

The other feeling didn’t.

As the afternoon stretched on, Noah found himself glancing toward the shoreline again and again. Sometimes Elias was there. Sometimes he wasn’t. Each time he didn’t see him, something tight curled deeper, unfamiliar and irritating.

Theo noticed every single time.

When Noah finally stood to head back toward the car, Theo fell into step beside him. “You gonna tell me what’s up,” he asked casually, “or am I supposed to pretend you didn’t just imprint on a stranger?”

Noah scoffed, but there was no heat in it. “I didn’t imprint on anyone.”

“Sure,” Theo said. “Whatever helps.”

Noah glanced over his shoulder one last time.

Elias was walking away along the shoreline, steps measured, back straight, the lake stretching endlessly beside him.

The sight made Noah’s chest ache.

He watched until Elias disappeared around the bend of sand, out of sight but not out of mind.

Noah exhaled slowly, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt.

He didn’t know Elias.
Didn’t know what his stillness meant.
Didn’t know why those eyes had followed him out of a perfectly ordinary day.

But as he turned toward the car, Theo bumping his shoulder lightly, Noah had the quiet, unsettling sense that this wasn’t something he could outrun.

Not this time.