“Maybe,” Austin agreed. For once, he broke our line of sight. He glanced down at his feet, only for a moment, before looking back at me. “Did you ever consider,” he said, quieter now, “that you make me just as nervous as I make you?”
“I don’t believe you,” I answered immediately. The words didn’t even have to travel far.
“You should,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. We just stood there, watching each other, like whoever moved first would change something important. Finally, my thoughts caught up to my mouth.
“Speaking of last week,” I said carefully, “is everything really okay? I don’t mean to pry. I just want to make sure.”
Austin’s eyes narrowed, just slightly, as if the question surprised him. “Don’t worry, Yellow,” he said after a beat. “Everything is fine.”
I nodded, believing him at once. Austin spoke with such certainty, like he never second-guessed anything that left his mouth, that I wondered if there would ever come a time when I wouldn’t believe him. I watched as his eyes drifted from my face again. This time they didn’t land on his feet, but on the ground beneath us. He studied it closely, like he was tracing something invisible, and I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. I knew the moment he found it.
That smirk, the one that made my stomach dip like I’d just crested the first hill of a rollercoaster, spread across his lips. He moved quickly, crouching down and picking something up between his fingers. I couldn’t see what it was at first. He turned it over in his hand, examining it with quiet satisfaction, like it was exactly what he’d been searching for all along. Then he walked back to me and took a seat on the rock beside mine.
“Here,” he said, holding it out.
Only then could I see it clearly. A stone, smooth and catching the light. At first glance it looked white, plain even, but the longer I studied it, the more that changed. Sunlight bled through its surface, revealing a second color beneath, soft and unmistakable. Pink.
Austin’s voice was low when he spoke again. “Pink,” he murmured, a smile pulling at his mouth. “For my Yellow.”
I took the small rock in my hand, my fingers tracing over it like it was an expensive piece of jewelry, like it was something far more valuable than a simple stone found on the ground. I slipped it into my pocket carefully, already knowing I couldn’t risk losing it.
“It’s pretty,” I said quietly. The gesture had crept into my chest in a way I hadn’t known was possible. “Thank you.”
“Keep it somewhere safe,” Austin said, his voice slipping back into that familiar confidence. “Somewhere it’ll remind you of me.”
“Remind me of you?” I echoed, lifting a brow. “Why would I need to be reminded of you? Are you planning on going somewhere? Disappearing again?” The words were meant as a joke. Light. Teasing. But like some of my jokes tended to do with Austin, this one didn’t land the way I expected.
“I’ll prove to you that this past week isn’t typical of me,” he said, his tone steady but deliberate. “If something catches my attention, I don’t usually let it out of my sight.”
The words settled low in my stomach, warm and heavy all at once. Almost instinctively, I felt the familiar urge to look away, to deflect, to change the subject before the feeling grew too big. But I didn’t. I stayed exactly where I was, my eyes locked on his, letting the moment exist instead of running from it.
“We’ll see,” I said instead, letting my mouth curve into a grin of my own.
“How’s Holden?” Austin asked, shifting the subject so smoothly it almost caught me off guard.
The surprise came first. Then the intrigue. He’d said my brother’s name so naturally, like it belonged in his mouth. I searched my memory for the times I’d mentioned Holden around him, and there weren’t many. But that was the thing about Austin. He always seemed to know things I didn’t expect him to know.
“Holden’s… well,” I started, choosing my words carefully. “I guess he could be better. But he’s okay for now, and that’s the part that matters.” I let the curiosity fade, filing it away for later.
“You know,” Austin said, sounding almost distracted, “I was surprised by how upbeat your parents are.” He seemed to replay the memory as he spoke, his eyes drifting before returning to me. “It must be hard for them,” he continued. “And for you.” He paused, studying my face. “I guess that’s where you get it from.”
“Get what?” I asked, unsure what he meant.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, a soft laugh slipping out. “It’s hard to explain. You all have this… air of hope around you. Like you just know things are going to be okay.”
“Things are going to be okay,” I said quickly, the words leaving my mouth like a reflex. Like a rule I’d learned by heart. “If things aren’t okay, then it’s not the end.”
Austin’s eyes narrowed slightly, something unreadable passing through them before he shook his head in disbelief. “See?” he said. “That’s exactly what I mean. I’ve never really met anyone who thinks like that.”
“Really?” I asked, genuinely surprised. It didn’t feel rare. It felt normal.
“Really,” he nodded. “And don’t get me wrong, I like it. I like that you can think that way.” His voice dipped, thoughtful. “But part of me wonders if it’s because, so far, things have always worked out for you.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said quietly. “I don’t know. I think it’s just how I was raised. My mom’s always been positive.” I paused, then added, “And even when I lost that positivity for a while… I found it again before it disappeared completely.”
“You lost it?” Austin asked, genuine surprise flickering across his face.
