Jacob gave a soft huff, the kind that wasn’t quite a laugh but edged close. “Stockton’s still a city.”
“Yeah,” Liam said, grin tugging wide. “But it’s not flashy.”
“Neither am I.” The words landed flat, simple, like it wasn’t even up for discussion.
Liam studied him for a moment. The sun caught Jacob’s face, making the hard lines seem softer. His brows furrowed slightly, not in irritation but thought.
“I like that,” Liam said. “That you’re not flashy.”
Jacob kept his gaze forward, staring out at the gravel lot, where the sun painted everything in gold. He didn’t respond and Liam let the silence hang. He was starting to learn Jacob’s rhythms—how quiet didn’t mean retreat, and how stillness wasn’t the same as disinterest.
“I don’t like being looked at,” Jacob said finally, voice low. “Not really.”
Liam blinked. “You’re an actor.”
“Doesn’t mean I like the spotlight.” Jacob’s lips curved. “My mom used to say glitter’s just dust that doesn’t know it’s dirt.”
Liam tilted his head, a laugh slipping out before he could stop it. “That’s… brutal.”
Jacob’s gaze didn’t waver. “So was she. She hated anything that took up too much space. Noise, joy, attention. She didn’t trust it. I learned to keep to myself.”
There it was, the thing Liam kept chasing without meaning to—a thin crack where something raw slipped through before Jacob could stop it. Liam didn’t press, afraid it would vanish if he pushed too hard.
He bent to grab a pebble, flicked it into the shade, and watched it hit dirt with the most anticlimactic thud possible.“Then she wouldn’t have liked me,” he said. “I was the loud kid. Couldn’t shut up, laughed at everything, turned every room into a stage. My sisters used to swear I was allergic to silence.”
Jacob glanced at him, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You still are.”
“Maybe,” Liam admitted, a smile breaking through. “But I think you secretly like it.”
A twinkle stirred in Jacob’s eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Liam bumped his shoulder playfully. “You like me. Admit it.”
Another beat passed, and then, so soft it seemed to slip out before he could catch it: “I do.”
Liam froze. Jacob offered nothing more, but he didn’t take it back either. The admission hung delicate in the air, too frail to touch. Liam felt panic creep in, a desperate need to shatter the silence before it swallowed him. He shifted fast, words spilling out before he could stop them. “So, uh, you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t acting?”
Jacob exhaled slowly. “Probably something with my hands. Building things. Fixing things.”
“Like a mechanic?”
“Maybe.” A ghost of a smile. “Or just someone who doesn’t have to laugh on cue.”
Liam made a low noise, shaking his head. “You’d hate it.”
Jacob glanced at him sideways. “Would I?”
“You live for this. You just pretend you don’t.”
That earned him a look, steady and unreadable. “You think you’ve got me figured out?”
“No.” Liam smiled, soft but sure. “But I think I’m starting to see pieces of you.”
Jacob didn’t deflect. Didn’t joke. Just stared like he was searching for the lie in Liam’s eyes—and couldn’t find one.
Liam looked away first. Not because he wanted to, but because it was too much.
“You know,” he said, words tumbling fast to fill the air again. “When I was ten, I used to fake being sick so I could stay home and watch old movies.” His ADHD brain always did this—pushing him onto the next thought, whether anyone else could follow the train or not.
