Chapter 3 Ripples in the sand

Lila woke to the sound of gulls, their cries sharp against the soft hum of the ocean. Sunlight streamed through her bedroom window, glinting off the seashell mobile that swayed in the breeze. She lay still, her eyes tracing the familiar shapes-scallops, clams, a single abalone she'd found as a kid-but her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the memory of yesterday's tide pool adventure with Evan. His words, Like you, when he'd compared her to the resilient urchin. The way his fingers had brushed the blanket as he spoke of waiting for something unnamed.

The way her heart had answered, loud and unyielding, despite every reason it shouldn't.

She pressed her palms to her eyes, willing the thoughts away. He was her stepfather. Claire's husband. But the truth was a stubborn tide, pulling her under: Evan Caldwell felt like the missing piece of her horizon, and she didn't know how to stop wanting him.

A knock on her door jolted her upright. "Lila, you alive in there?" The voice was bright, brash, unmistakably Mia Torres, her best friend since they were twelve and bonded over a shared hatred of gym class.

Lila swung her legs out of bed, forcing a smile. "Barely. Give me a sec."

She pulled on a faded tank top and shorts, her auburn curls a wild halo she didn't bother taming. Mia stood in the hallway, her dark hair in a messy bun, her paint-splattered overalls a testament to her latest art project. At twenty-two, Mia was a whirlwind of sarcasm and loyalty, an art student who saw the world in colors Lila could only dream of. She held two to-go cups from The Salty Bean, the local coffee shop that was their second home.

"Vanilla latte, extra foam," Mia said, thrusting a cup at Lila. "You look like you need it. Rough night?"

Lila took the coffee, grateful for the warmth against her hands. "Just... didn't sleep great. Thanks for this."

Mia raised an eyebrow, her brown eyes sharp. "Uh-huh. Spill, Harper. You've got that look-like you're overanalyzing something to death."

Lila laughed, but it sounded hollow. She led Mia to the deck, where the morning air was crisp with salt and promise. The ocean stretched below, a mirror of blues and greens, and Lila sank into a chair, clutching her latte like a lifeline. Mia sprawled across from her, kicking off her sandals and propping her feet on the railing.

"So," Mia said, sipping her coffee, "what's got you all moody? Is it school? That internship? Or-" she grinned, wickedly- "some hot marine biologist you're not telling me about?"

Lila's stomach twisted, and she stared at the waves, avoiding Mia's gaze. "It's not a guy," she said, too quickly. "Just... life. You know, the usual."

Mia snorted. "Liar. You're blushing, and you never blush. Come on, I've known you since we were sneaking cookies from Mrs. Callahan's bakery. What's up?"

Lila bit her lip, her heart pounding. She wanted to tell Mia-needed to-but the words felt too big, too dangerous. How could she explain the way Evan's presence made her feel like she was floating and drowning at once? The way his laugh lit her up, the way his touch-innocent, fleeting-set her skin on fire? She took a sip of her latte, the vanilla sweet on her tongue, and decided on a half-truth.

"It's just... being home is weird," she said. "Mom's never around, and Evan's... he's not what I expected a stepdad to be. He's more like a friend. It's confusing."

Mia's eyes narrowed, but her tone stayed light. "Confusing how? Like, he's too nice? Or he's secretly a serial killer and you're trying to figure out where he hides the bodies?"

Lila laughed, the sound easing the knot in her chest. "Not a serial killer. He's just... easy to talk to. We went to the tide pools yesterday, and it was... nice. Too nice, maybe."

Mia set her cup down, her expression shifting to something softer, more serious. "Okay, hold up. You're getting that dreamy look, and I'm not sure I like where this is going. He's your stepdad, Lila. Married to your mom. You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that," Lila snapped, her voice sharper than she meant. She sighed, softening. "I'm not stupid, Mia. It's just... I don't know how to explain it. He sees me. Like, really sees me. Not as Claire's daughter or some college kid, but as... me."

Mia leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "Okay, I hear you. And I get it-Evan's a good guy. Charming, stupidly handsome, all that. But you've gotta be careful, Lila. Feelings like that? They're a one-way ticket to Messy Town, population: you."

Lila's throat tightened, and she looked away, her eyes stinging. "I know. I'm not doing anything. It's just... there. And I don't know what to do with it."

Mia reached over, squeezing her hand. "You don't have to do anything with it. Just... keep your head on straight. You're Lila Harper, future ocean-saving badass. You don't need to complicate your life with some forbidden crush."

Lila nodded, but the words felt like pebbles sinking in her chest. Mia was right-she should push this away, lock it up somewhere deep. But the thought of Evan's smile, the way he'd called her a spark yesterday, made her heart ache with a sweetness she couldn't shake.

The sliding door opened, and Evan stepped out, a sketchpad under his arm. He wore a gray T-shirt and jeans, his hair still slightly damp, and Lila's breath caught at the sight of him. "Morning, Mia," he said, his smile easy but tinged with something-fatigue, maybe, or his own unspoken thoughts. "Didn't know we had company."

"Mia brought coffee," Lila said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Want some?"

"Nah, I'm good. Just came out to sketch the view." He glanced at Lila, his eyes lingering a moment too long, and her heart did that infuriating skip again. "You ladies plotting world domination?"

"Something like that," Mia said, her tone playful but her eyes sharp, watching him. "What about you? Drawing another masterpiece?"

Evan chuckled, settling into a chair a safe distance away. "Just trying to capture the light on the water. It's tricky today-keeps shifting."

Lila watched him open his sketchpad, his pencil moving in sure, fluid strokes. She wanted to ask what he saw in the waves, what made him choose this moment to draw, but Mia's warning echoed in her mind. Instead, she sipped her coffee, letting the silence stretch.

Mia, never one for quiet, leaned forward. "So, Evan, how's life as the resident artist? Claire keeping you busy with her real estate empire?"

Evan's pencil paused, and he glanced up, his smile wry. "She's got her hands full, that's for sure. Leaves me to my own devices most days."

There was a note in his voice-loneliness, maybe-that made Lila's chest tighten. She knew Claire's work consumed her, leaving little room for anything else. She wondered, not for the first time, what had drawn Evan to her mother. Claire was all sharp edges and ambition; Evan was... softer, like the tide pools, steady but alive with hidden depths.

"Sounds like you need a hobby," Mia said, grinning. "Maybe join Lila on her next tide pool adventure. She's basically a mermaid now."

Lila shot her a glare, but Evan laughed, his eyes meeting hers. "I could be persuaded. She's a good teacher."

The compliment was simple, but it landed like a stone in still water, sending ripples through her. She looked away, focusing on the ocean, but she could feel his gaze, warm and heavy.

Mia stood, brushing off her overalls. "Well, I've got a canvas calling my name. Lila, meet me at The Salty Bean later? We need to plan your birthday next week."

"Deal," Lila said, grateful for the shift in focus. "Thanks for the coffee."

Mia winked, then pointed at Evan. "Don't burn the house down with your sketching, Caldwell."

"No promises," he said, his grin easy but his eyes still on Lila.

When Mia was gone, the deck felt smaller, the air thicker. Lila clutched her coffee, searching for something to say. "Your sketches... can I see one?"

Evan hesitated, then slid the pad toward her. The page showed the cove, the waves rendered in soft, sweeping lines, but it was the horizon that caught her eye-a delicate curve, like a promise waiting to be kept. "It's beautiful," she said, her voice soft.

"Thanks," he said, his tone quieter now. "It's not done yet. Needs... something."

She met his eyes, and there it was again-that unspoken current, pulling them closer. "Maybe it's perfect as it is," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

He didn't answer, but his gaze held hers, and for a moment, the world was just them-the sea, the sketch, the ache in her chest. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway broke the spell, and Lila's heart sank. Claire was home.

"We should... clean up," she said, standing too quickly, her coffee sloshing.

"Yeah," Evan said, closing his sketchpad. But as he stood, his hand brushed hers, a fleeting touch that felt like a spark in the salt air. "Lila," he started, then stopped, his jaw tight. "Never mind."

She nodded, hurrying inside, her heart pounding like the waves. Claire's voice echoed from the foyer, bright and distracted, but Lila barely heard it. All she could think of was Evan's touch, his unfinished sketch, and the dangerous, sweet pull of something she couldn't name.