Chapter 1

“You’re such a camper, bro. That’s the third time you’ve hid behind that rock.”

Nate laughed through a mouthful of chips. “It’s called cover, idiot. It’s literally the point of the game.”

“No, the point of the game is not to sit in the same bush for ten minutes and wait for me to walk by like it’s fucking guerrilla warfare.”

I tossed my controller onto the couch and reached for the soda can sweating on the coffee table. The screen still showed my guy ragdolling in slow motion, a bullet to the dome. I groaned.

“You used to be decent at this,” Nate said, smug.

“I am decent. You just know all the spawn points and glitchy corners.”

He grinned like he’d just won an award. “Tactical awareness, my dude.”

I rolled my eyes and sank deeper into the couch. The living room was its usual mess: game cases scattered, empty snack bags balled up on the rug, two half-finished energy drinks warming on the windowsill. The sun had started to shift through the slats in the blinds, casting those weird golden stripes across the carpet. The air was heavy with pizza grease and the smell of cheap cologne we’d both used way too much of in high school and never grew out of.

Nate reached for the remote. “You wanna switch to something else? I’m done embarrassing you.”

“Maybe after you explain what the hell kind of AI tactics you’ve been using. You study military manuals in your spare time now or-?”

Before he could answer, we heard the front door click open.

Her voice followed, smooth and amused. “I swear I could hear that smack talk from the driveway.”

I sat up instinctively. I don’t know why I always did.

Nate’s mom walked into the room like she owned space. Like the hallway bent a little to let her pass.

She wore a fitted black long-sleeve tee, loose at the collar, sleeves pushed up to the elbows, a pair of joggers that rode low on her hips and still managed to cling just enough to the curve of her thighs. Her hair was down, long, black, straight as poured ink, falling over one shoulder in soft contrast to the pale gray tattoos that climbed her forearm and vanished into the sleeve.

She had her keys hooked on one finger, a small purse slung over her shoulder, and those lips. Plump, glossed, just a little parted like she was mid-thought even when she wasn’t speaking.

She looked more alert than most moms I knew. Younger, even. Like she didn’t sleep much but didn’t need to.

“Hey, Ma,” Nate mumbled, half-looking up from the controller.

“Hello, Mrs. Chérie,” I said, sitting up straighter than I meant to. I felt my face warm instantly.

She looked at me for a second, eyes catching the way I said it and her smile curved slightly, deeper now.

“Jake,” she said, warmth in her voice, but something else in her eyes. “You’ve really got to stop calling me Mrs. Chérie. Makes me feel ancient.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“You can call me Valerie,” she added, stepping into the room, already looking around like she owned the space. “Or Val. whatever feels good in your mouth.”

Nate snorted from the couch.

Val didn’t even blink.

I could feel my ears go hot.

“Boys,” she replied, eyeing us both with a smile that felt like it knew something we didn’t. “Still at it? How long have you two been camped on that couch, since lunch?”

Nate shrugged. “Pretty much.”

She glanced at the pizza box on the coffee table, lifted a slice, inspected it like a scientist. “Cold, greasy, probably going to kill you by thirty.”

“Then at least I die with a KD ratio I’m proud of,” Nate said.

“Mm,” she hummed, setting the slice down and wiping her fingers on a napkin that magically appeared from somewhere. “That’ll look great on your headstone.”

Her eyes shifted to me then just briefly and something in her gaze held. Not long. Just a second too long. I smiled back awkwardly, aware of how sweaty I probably looked in this old hoodie.

She turned, her eyes flicking over the room like she was cataloging chaos. “I’m heading out. Running a few errands before everything closes. Try not to destroy the house while I’m gone.”

“Want me to lock up if you’re late?” Nate asked.

She grabbed a hair tie off the counter, twisted her hair up casually. “I won’t be. But if I am, just remember: the bat is behind the door, the Wi-Fi password is not for your little girlfriends, and Jake, you’re in charge.”

My head snapped up. “Me?”

“Obviously.” She gave me a wink.

Nate rolled his eyes. “He’s more likely to die first if there’s a break-in.”

Val was already halfway to the door. “I’m counting on you, Jake. Don’t let me down.” Then she was gone. Just like that.

The room felt a little quieter after she left. The air didn’t buzz the same way. Nate unpaused the game, but I didn’t pick the controller up right away.

He noticed.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, scratching the back of my neck.

He smirked. “You always get weird when she’s around.”

“I don’t get weird.”

“Bro, you practically sit up straighter like you’re about to salute.”

I flipped him off, finally grabbing the controller. “She’s just ... intense.”

“That’s the polite word for ‘scary.’”

“I didn’t say scary.”

“She is though,” Nate said. “She’s cool, yeah, but don’t let the ‘hip mom’ act fool you. She’s got, like, radar. I used to think she read my texts before I even sent them.”

“Maybe she does,” I joked.

“Wouldn’t even be surprised.”

There was a short pause, then Nate cleared his throat.

“So ... anyway,” he said, glancing at me sideways, “this weekend, I’m heading to my dad’s.”

“Oh yeah? Since when?”

“Like, just got confirmed this morning. Last-minute thing. You know how he is.”

“Still living in that weird condo?”

“Yup. Same beige walls. Same broken ceiling fan. Same fridge that smells like regret.”

I laughed. “Sounds amazing.”

He grimaced. “It’s not. But it’s just Friday through Sunday.”

“Dude, you will be fine, trust me.” I said.

“I hope so. I just wish for it be Sunday evening already.”

It was Friday afternoon, warm enough that the air felt thicker than usual. That kind of early-summer heat that lingered on your shoulders no matter how much you walked or tried to ignore it. I had my hood down, my sleeves pushed up, and just a short grocery list in my head. Chips. Soda. Maybe some frozen pizza. Nothing impressive. I didn’t plan on being out long.

I stepped into the store, eyes half-focused on the snack aisle, when I caught a glimpse of someone near the self-checkout section.

Val.

Standing there like she didn’t belong in a place as dull and fluorescent as this one.

She wore a white t-shirt tied at the waist, soft olive-green joggers sitting low on her hips, and her black hair pulled back in a loose, messy twist that left strands falling around her face. Her tattoos peeked out from under the sleeves. She looked ... effortless. Casual. Not even trying.

She was finishing up on the touchscreen when she turned her head and saw me.

And smiled. God, that smile.

“Well well,” she said, her voice carrying easily across the hum of beeping scanners. “If it isn’t my favorite gentleman.”

I felt myself straighten up, like I needed to suddenly appear less like someone buying energy drinks and more like someone worth smiling at.

“Hey,” I said, and instantly regretted how dry my voice sounded. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She tilted her head, amused. “Grocery stores are still open to the public, you know.”

“Yeah, of course. Just ... caught me off guard.”

Her eyes moved down to the sad excuse for groceries in my basket. “Let me guess. Dinner of champions?”

I looked down. A bag of chips, two sodas, and a single instant ramen cup. I tried to laugh it off. “Don’t judge. I was gonna add something with actual nutrients. Like frozen pizza.”

She gave a soft laugh. Not mocking. Just amused in that way that always made me feel like I was both in on the joke and the punchline.

“Well, your metabolism’s still on your side,” she said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

I shrugged. “Trying.”

Her gaze lingered a second longer, then moved toward the door.

“You busy this evening?” she asked, casual.

I blinked. “Uh ... kind of. I had a few things to do.”

She raised an eyebrow, just one, and gave me that slow, patient smile that made my chest feel tight.

“Anything important?”

“Not really. Mostly gaming. Laundry.”

She tilted her head slightly. “That sounds like stuff that’ll be there when you get back to it.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I just nodded, stupidly.

“I could use a little help,” she said, adjusting her grip on the cloth bag slung over her shoulder. “Just a few things around the house. Groceries, mostly. And it’d be nice to have someone to talk to for a bit.”

My stomach flipped. She wasn’t being weird about it. Just direct. And something about the way she said it ... like it was natural. Like she was used to getting what she wanted.

“Oh,” I said, shifting the basket in my hands. “Yeah. Sure. I can help.”

Her smile turned just a little bit deeper.

“Good boy.”

That hit somewhere low in my gut and I tried not to react. I nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of the sweat under my collar.

“I’ll wait outside,” she said, already turning for the exit. “Don’t take too long.”

I watched her go. Her hips moved like they weren’t in a hurry but knew exactly where they were going. Her shirt clung loosely, the hem riding up just a little as she pushed the door open and walked into the sunlight. I paid as fast as I could. I almost dropped my card. The bag crinkled in my hands as I shoved the chips inside.

By the time I stepped outside, she was already in the driver’s seat of her car, one hand on the wheel, sunglasses on, door unlocked. I opened the passenger side and slid in. She turned her head, smile still there, like I hadn’t kept her waiting at all.

“Ready?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She started the car. “I like when people listen the first time I ask.”

I didn’t say anything.

I was pretty sure my face was still red.

The AC in her car was just high enough to cut the warmth, but not cold. Her music was playing low. It was some soft synthy track that felt half like a dream and half like something you’d hear in the background of a memory you weren’t sure was real. I buckled in and tried to keep my eyes forward. Val drove with one hand on the wheel, sunglasses still on. Her nails tapped softly against the leather as we pulled out of the grocery store lot and merged onto the road.

“So,” she said after a moment, voice smooth, “how’d your week go? Survive?”

I shrugged. “Barely. School was kind of a drag. Couple tests. Nothing major.”

She made a quiet hum, the kind that felt like it meant more than it sounded.

“Life really doesn’t get more interesting when you’re older,” she said, eyes still on the road. “You just get better at pretending it’s not boring.”

“I don’t know,” I said, smiling a little. “I think you make it look easy.”

That earned me a glance. A short one, but enough that I caught her lips twitch into a grin.

“Careful, Jake,” she said, “you keep talking like that and I might think you’re flirting with me.”

“I wasn’t-” I cut myself off and rubbed the back of my neck. “I mean, I wasn’t trying to. Just ... you seem like you’ve got your life figured out.”

“I don’t,” she said, matter-of-fact. “I just don’t care as much about looking like I do.”

The silence after that wasn’t awkward. Just ... full.

We passed a row of quiet houses and turned onto a street with more trees, the light breaking through the leaves in sharp angles.

“What did you need help with?” I asked, mostly just to say something.

Val adjusted her grip on the wheel.

“Ah. Right,” she said. “Well, I’ve got a couple heavy things in the garage I’ve been meaning to move around. A shelf I want shifted. Some boxes. Nothing crazy.”

“That’s easy.”

“I know,” she said, glancing at me. “That’s why I asked you.”

She turned the music down a little with a twist of her fingers.

“Also,” she added, “I bought this new hose and I have no idea how to connect the damn thing. Thought maybe you could save me the frustration.”

“I can handle that too,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. “My dad used to make me fix stuff like that all the time.”

“Well, good,” she said, eyes flicking back to the road. “I like boys who know how to use their hands.”

I stared at the dashboard. Her voice was completely casual. She didn’t even smile after she said it. Like it meant nothing. Like I was the only one making it weird.

I cleared my throat. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

We turned down her street. The tires rolled quiet over the blacktop. Her driveway came into view, lined by trimmed hedges and the tall trees that kept her house shadowed even in daylight. The garage door was closed.

She pulled into the drive and shifted into park.

“Alright,” she said, shutting off the engine. “Let’s see if that back holds up as well as that mouth.”

I laughed a little. Nervously. She opened her door and stepped out. I followed, my heart already kicking up, even though nothing had happened. Not yet.

We stepped inside slowly, her keys jingling in her hand as she pushed the door open with her hip. The house felt cooler than outside, the kind of clean quiet that sinks into your clothes. Val moved ahead of me into the kitchen and set her bag down on the island counter, the soft rustle of fabric mixing with the distant hum of the fridge. She started unpacking with a kind of relaxed rhythm. One item after the next. A bottle of wine, a head of lettuce, a carton of eggs, and something that looked like homemade pasta sealed in brown paper. It was weirdly calming to watch her. She never looked rushed. Like every motion had its own pace and nothing in the world could make her hurry.

I hovered at first, unsure if I should help, but she didn’t ask and I didn’t want to get in the way. Her back was to me and her hips swayed a little with each step to the fridge and back. Her hair had fallen out of its twist, strands brushing along her jaw. The tattoos on her arm caught the light through the window blinds, shadowing thin lines over her skin.

Once the last item was tucked away, she turned to me and gave a small nod toward the hallway.

“Come on. I’ll show you what I need help with.”