"So, what's the plan?"
"I don't know."
"Scarf, it's been four hours and you've said that every time," Noah groaned.
"It's been four hours. Don't you think your dad will be home soon?"
After breakfast at Spoon's Box by the town square, Noah had driven them back to his place. Aralyn had insisted he send her home, but Noah was stubborn to the core.
"Would you relax? It's the last day of preparation for The Full Tree Festival. He'll be back by midnight, and I'm pretty sure he's not going to miss it with the gang," he said. "Besides, I'm not going to let him hurt you or anything," he added with that grin of his. The one that somehow made Aralyn forget what he had just said.
Aralyn sat stiffly on the chair by his desk.
His room screamed typical guy stereotype–messy bed, music sheets scattered everywhere, and she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't just seen a pair of blue boxers hanging from the headboard.
Meanwhile, Noah sat on the floor, his back leaning against the bed.
And yet, she couldn't help but lift her chin slightly, sniffing the air. That same old, sweet fragrance.
"You're doing it again," he sighed. "What do you smell this time?"
"Nothing! Nothing at all," Aralyn said quickly, shaking her head.
Noah raised a brow but let it go, giving her an out. He leaned his head back against the mattress.
Aralyn's hands rested in her lap, fingers fidgeting. Slowly, she pulled the pearl from her pocket, holding it carefully in her palm. She had spent hours memorizing its design.
"I was hoping she could tell us who took it," she said quietly. "It would save us time instead of... wondering like this."
"Oh, cheer up, Scarf," Noah said, eyes still closed, that lopsided grin never leaving his face. "What's life without a little wondering? Or an adventure?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her.
"I don't know about you, but meeting someone like Phoebe? That's–hands down–one of the most exciting things that's ever happened to me. Most of all," he pointed at her, "you."
Aralyn blinked. "Me?"
"Yes, you."
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm not exactly what you'd call exciting. You just came back, what, a month ago?" she gestured vaguely. "You don't even know me."
Noah scoffed, letting out a quiet, humorless laugh. "Does anything have to be known for long, Scarf? Things don't wait for time. Or a calendar. They just... happen."
"...a creature who has witnessed horrifying things for decades."
Her words echoed in his mind. He had been meaning to ask. "Scarf, can I ask you something?"
"Sounds dangerous."
"Seriously," he rolled his eyes.
Aralyn leaned back slightly, arms crossing. "Not like you to ask permission. Shoot."
"How old are you?"
"…that's what you want to ask?"
Noah turned his head toward her. "How old are you... compared to me?"
Aralyn blinked, then looked away. Her shoulders tensed as she sighed.
"It's a simple question. You said decades back in the car," he continued, watching her carefully. "So what, you're like... 120 or something?"
Aralyn scrunched her face. "Do I look that old to you?"
"Hey, I'm just asking," he said, hands raised.
"Close, actually," she muttered.
Noah's head snapped toward her. "Wow. You are old."
She glared. Then something by the window caught her eye. Aralyn stood and walked toward it, brushing her fingers along the wooden frame. She lifted them, noticing fine grains clinging to her skin.
"What's this?"
"That's a window," Noah replied lazily, eyes half-closed.
"Noah."
He groaned, pushed himself up, and walked over. His fingers brushed hers lightly.
"I think that's salt," he said. "Dad sprinkles it around the house sometimes. Says it keeps bad energy out."
Aralyn returned to her seat, thoughtful. She had noticed the candles earlier. Even now, a faded green dreamcatcher hung above the headboard.
"Is that true, Scarf?" Noah asked, sitting back down. "Does salt actually repel demons and stuff?"
"If used correctly. Not just thrown around blindly and expected to work," she replied.
Noah straightened slightly, resting an arm over his raised knee. That crooked smile returned. "Now that I have a real witch in my room," he said, tilting his head, "tell me something. What scares you the most?"
For a second, Aralyn's heart almost stopped beating. She wasn't sure why she was afraid of Noah asking anything regarding her being a witch, but her shoulders slumped in relief when he asked that.
"What kind of a question is that?"
"The simple kind. Even for the strongest witch of all time," he said, quoting Phoebe's statement, "must have their greatest weakness too."
"I'm a witch, Noah. Nothing scares me, and why would you think I would tell you what my weakness is?"
"Really? Nothing?"
Aralyn contemplated whether to tell him. After all, he was the very first person in all of Dewhurst to know about he–aside from the twins–and hadn't turned her secret into town gossip.
"...people."
"People? What, me?"
"Not you, specifically," Aralyn groaned, tilting her head back. "It's... complicated."
Noah's eyes caught the faint glow under her thick turtleneck before she could say anything. "Scarf, something wrong?"
Aralyn stayed still. The fact that she made an oath to not involve herself in helping people–she realized she couldn't stay away from it any longer if she wanted to, not when she could do something to save the one thing the twins cared about–the woods.
Are you there, Phoebe?
She waited a few seconds before a soft, melodic voice reached her.
I'm here, Chosen.
Aralyn's eyes lit up. Can we meet later tonight?
I'm afraid not. Those people are here again, searching for my kind.
"Uh, Scarf?" Noah waved a hand in front of her face, and Aralyn gestured for him to keep quiet.
Hide deep. And Phoebe, I didn't get to ask you earlier. Do you remember what the people looked like when they took your pearl?
He has a round face and no hair. He looks shorter than you.
Her expression contorted into bewilderment. Nearly half the town was shorter than her and bald.
Hang on a minute...
A flash of realization crossed her mind. Noah leaned closer until Aralyn had to stop him by his shoulder. "What? What is it?" he asked, eyes wild at her reaction.
Does this person look fat? In the middle?
Aralyn's heart pounded as she waited for the answer. One person came to mind—and she prayed her instincts were right.
Correct, Chosen.
Relief surged through Aralyn so strongly it almost hurt. Noah tapped his knee, waiting patiently.
Thank you, Phoebe. Stay safe. I-we will bring your pearl back.
Please do. The world needs you.
And just like that, the connection ended. A pang of ache struck her core. The world needs you. Where she tried her hardest to stay unseen, yet the world kept pulling her back into it.
Aralyn's eyes widened slightly as they landed on Noah's. "I think I know who took it. Mayor Fletcher."
It all came back to her. Grayson boasting about the decorative cement orb. But then Aralyn sagged into the chair.
"But it can't be," she muttered, taking the pearl out again.
"Fletcher? That thick dude?"
"I think so," said Aralyn, rolling the pearl between her fingers. "But it can't be. This pearl is small, right?"
"Yeah?"
"But the one I saw definitely didn't look like this," she said.
Noah dropped to one knee in front of her, carefully taking the pearl.
"You sure, Scarf?" he asked, looking at her.
Aralyn nodded, and then realized how close they were. His cologne was musky, almost earthy, with a creamy undertone that made Aralyn unintentionally lean closer. Noah froze, his grip on the pearl nearly faltering.
His scent was surprisingly pleasant–intoxicating up close–and the air between them seemed to still when their eyes met. Noah tilted his head slightly, gazing into her amber ones.
Aralyn shook herself and pulled back, stopping before she leaned any closer. She cleared her throat. "Positive."
"Then it's time," he said with a grin, standing and heading to his closet, rummaging inside.
"Time for what?"
"If we're breaking into his house, we should have our stealth gear," he said, pulling out a couple of black shirts that looked identical to Aralyn.
"I'm sorry, what? Breaking in?" Aralyn asked, incredulous. "In case you forgot, my reputation with these townsfolk isn't exactly close-knit, Noah. What if we get caught?"
"That's why we need stealth mode, Scarf," he said casually.
"Really? Why do I feel like you've done this before?" Aralyn asked cautiously.
"Long story."
"Noah."
Noah sighed, hanging the shirts back. "I used to break into his house a few years ago."
"You what?" Aralyn's eyes widened. Who knew the town's prince charming had the guts to break into someone's home?
"Noah, please tell me you didn't steal anything."
"I didn't. But mainly for this..." He trailed off and walked toward her, leaning close until she had to step back, her heart racing.
"W-what are you doing?" she stuttered. Then she frowned, confused. "Wait… you do this… with Fletcher?"
This time, it was Noah's turn to look horrified as he stepped back quickly. "What? Ew, hell no!" he shuddered.
"If you must know, Fletcher has a daughter," he said with a smirk. "Happy?"
Aralyn gave no reply, only rolled her eyes and nodded.
"For someone who said their weakness is people," he quoted, "you're doing a pretty bad job at proving it."
"What do you mean?"
"Easy. Me," he said, flashing that dimpled smile. "Mrs. Collin. The kids."
Aralyn looked away, unable to argue because it was true. No matter how hard she tried to stick to her oath, she always found herself breaking it.
Noah's hand rose, his fingertips grazing her turtleneck lightly, sending a shiver down her spine. "Don't push me away, Scarf," he said softly, tilting her chin up. "We're in this together. No matter what. I won't let you get caught."
For some reason, Aralyn let herself believe him. She nodded quietly, and he smiled widely.
"That's my girl," he muttered, pulling his hand away.
Aralyn swallowed. That unwanted spark had found a home deep in her belly.
"Noah?"
Both of them froze in place. The sound of a door closing sent Aralyn into a panic.
"I thought you said he'll be back by midnight?" she whispered, already turning and rushing to the window to push it open, but it wouldn't budge.
"You can't jump out, it's stuck!" he whispered back, frantically looking for somewhere for Aralyn to hide. The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs sent goosebumps down their spines as Nathaniel got closer.
"Noah? You up there?"
There was no space under the bed nor in the closet, and Noah had no other choice. He took off his shirt, raking a hand through his hair. "Scarf, you're not gonna like this."
"What?"
Aralyn didn't get to ask why, because Noah had already pulled her onto the bed with him. "Noah! What're you doing?" she whispered harshly, her face flushing from the heat radiating off his bare chest as he pulled her deeper under the covers.
"Play along. Trust me," he said, gazing into her eyes with an unfamiliar tenderness–not his usual playful self.
Aralyn nodded slowly.
Noah slid his arm under her head. "Lay here. Face me. Don't turn around," he instructed, gesturing for her to rest on his bicep.
Aralyn did as she was told, lying close to him, trying to fight the heat rushing to her cheeks. His skin was warm, and his scent was stronger this close.
Noah carefully arranged her hair to cover part of her face as if she were in deep sleep, making sure the blanket covered her neck, even though she wore a turtleneck.
The door opened just as Noah wrapped an arm around her waist over the covers and leaned in, his lips brushing against her forehead.
Her heart pounded so loudly Aralyn was certain Noah could hear it.
Noah's eyes fluttered open, pretending grogginess as he lifted his head toward the door. "Dad?"
"Don't mind me. Pretend I'm not here," Nathaniel said as he walked to the window.
Both Noah and Aralyn strained to listen as he poured something along the wooden frame.
"More salt," Noah whispered. "Move a little into my neck," he murmured. "Come on."
Aralyn hesitated, then slowly moved closer.
She fits perfectly, he suddenly thought. The abnegation witch who always pushed him was now tucked under the covers and in his arms.
Nathaniel walked back toward the doorframe and gave Noah a nod. "Don't forget about condoms," he said before closing the door with a click.
Noah waited a few moments, listening to the fading footsteps downstairs. Then he slowly sat up. "We're safe."
Aralyn quickly pulled away from him, adjusting her hair. Never in a million years had she imagined doing something like this with someone she barely knew.
"Since tomorrow is the festival, I think it's the best time for us to sneak in," Noah said, pulling his shirt back on. "Everyone will be there, including Fletcher."
"Yeah... sure," Aralyn replied, her heart still racing from the forced intimacy.
Her gaze drifted to the window, and she walked over. A fresh line of salt had been poured along the wooden frame. Her jaw tightened.
Noah, now beside her, noticed. "Something wrong with the salt?"
Aralyn stiffened, her gaze hardening. Noah gently patted her shoulder. "Scarf, what's wrong? Talk to me."
She finally looked at him then at the dreamcatcher, then back at the salt.
It can't be, she thought.
"If this is about using salt the wrong way or something, tell me," he pressed.
"Throw that dreamcatcher away. And brush the salt outside. It's... it's not what you think," she said.
Noah walked over to his bed, grabbed the dreamcatcher, and with a flick of his wrist, used a card to push the salt off the frame until it fell outside. "Done and dusted," he said.
Aralyn couldn't shake the feeling that something–someone from her past–was here.
In Dewhurst.