Page 67 of Lured By Shadows

I was collecting British vocabulary like Pokémon cards at this point.

“It’s just what people here call younger guys,” Sienna said casually. “I like it. It suits him. He’s very… blud.”

“I’m literally right here,” Oliver muttered, puffing out his cheeks. “You don’t have to narrate my entire life.”

Sienna rolled her eyes but stood, brushing off her pants and tossing him a look.

“C’mon, Mr. No-License. Let’s move.”

I laughed quietly as I got to my feet and followed them, keeping an easy pace. Their back-and-forth pulled me in, reminding me so much of siblings I’d known growing up. Sienna’s sharp edges balanced out Oliver’s over-the-top reactions in a way that felt genuine. Being the extra didn’t bother me at all when it came with moments like this. Watching them bicker was weirdly therapeutic.

The rest of the day blurred together in the best way, turning into a loose collage of walking, laughing, and doing absolutely nothing important. We wandered through small, quirky shops wedged between old buildings, the sort with crooked signs and windows packed with handmade trinkets, novelty mugs, and an almost aggressive amount of scented candles.

At some point, we ducked into a bakery tucked into the corner of the plaza, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention. Inside, the air was warm and thick with the smell of fresh bread and sugar, and we lingered far too long stuffing ourselves with pastries dusted in powdered sugar and filled with sweet cream until our fingers turned sticky.

After that, Oliver somehow convinced us to stop at a little stall with a claw machine, his eyes lighting up as though he’d uncovered buried treasure. He declared, very seriously, that he wasn’t leaving until he won something.

I crossed my arms and leaned back, fully prepared to watch him waste coins, but against all odds—pure luck or some kind of divine intervention—he actually won.

A tiny octopus plush with oversized button eyes dropped into the chute, and he froze, staring between Sienna and me as though he was about to make the most important decision of his life.

My brows lifted, preemptive panic already kicking in because the last thing I needed was him handing that thing to me and making everything awkward all over again.

Thankfully, he read the room.

With an exaggerated sigh, he handed the plush to Sienna instead, who took it with a barely concealed smirk.

Crisis successfully avoided.

By the time we wandered back toward our blanket, the park had shifted again. Somewhere near the lakeside path, a local band had set up, and music drifted through the air, easy and unassuming. They played a mix of indie covers and soft originals, the sort that blended naturally into the afternoon without demanding attention. A small crowd gathered nearby, sunlight catching on instruments and smiling faces alike.

Something sparked inside me at the sound, and before I could overthink it, I pulled out my phone and opened the app. I propped the camera up and stepped into frame, letting myself move with the music in an unscripted way that felt freeing.

My body caught the rhythm effortlessly, hair lifting in the breeze while my movements stayed loose and fluid against the open sky and stretch of grass. It wasn’t planned or rehearsed. Just a simple freestyle. And for the first time in days, I stopped thinking so hard.

I tagged the location but scheduled the post for later, making sure no one would know I was still there. It was a habit I’d picked up after too many close calls, when the online world flipped from kind to overwhelming in a heartbeat, supportive one second and far too invasive the next.

When I dropped back onto the blanket, my muscles buzzing and skin warm from the sun, I tucked my phone away and stared up at the sky while music drifted softly through the air around us.

For a little while, everything felt easy again.

18

While the three of us stretched out in the grass, soaking up the mild sun and talking about life back in America, my entire existence nearly ended in about half a second. A ball came flying through the air out of nowhere, passing so close to my face that I felt the rush of wind brush my cheek before I could even react. Dramatic? Maybe. But that ball came at me like it had personal issues.

“What the bloody hell!”

Sienna shot to her feet instantly while I stayed frozen, my heartbeat hammering hard enough to crawl into my throat. It took a second for my brain to catch up, but relief eventually followed, steadying me. No blood. No shattered bones. No tragic park-related death.

Sienna grabbed the ball off the ground, irritation written all over her posture, clearly ready to rip into whoever had launched it without looking. But the moment her eyes landed on the culprit, her entire expression shifted. Her shoulders loosened, the tension disappearing almost instantly, and a real smile tugged at her mouth as though someone had flipped a switch.

Still a little shaky, I followed her line of sight and instantly understood why she’d let it go so easily.

The guy walking toward us was tall and broad-shouldered, his golden-brown hair already tousled by the wind. He carried himself with the sort of effortless confidence that made it seem as though he belonged anywhere he stood. As I pushed myself up and brushed grass from my clothes, I caught his steel-gray eyes and felt a quick spark settle low in my stomach.

His gaze locked onto mine before drifting down over my body without a hint of shame.

Oh.