Rea wasn't sure how long they stayed by the lake.
The sun had started dipping lower, staining the sky in warm hues of orange and pink. The air smelled fresh—like pine, damp earth, and something else, something she couldn't quite place.
She stole a glance at Aster. He was leaning back on his hands, staring at the water, the fading light casting sharp shadows across his face.
There was something almost peaceful about him like this. Less sharp edges, less armor.
It made her want to ask questions.
Dangerous ones.
"Do you ever feel like you're running from something?" she asked suddenly.
Aster didn't react right away. He just exhaled, a long, slow breath, before tilting his head toward her.
"Depends," he said. "Are we talking literally or metaphorically?"
Rea huffed a quiet laugh. "Metaphorically."
Aster considered her for a moment. Then he said, "Yeah."
He didn't elaborate.
Rea hesitated. "What are you running from?"
Aster's jaw tightened. He looked away, eyes fixed on the water.
"I don't know," he admitted.
It was a lie.
Rea could hear it in his voice, see it in the way his fingers curled against the car hood.
But she didn't push.
Because she understood.
Because she had her own things she wasn't ready to say out loud.
So instead, she kicked a rock with her foot and said, "You can't run forever."
Aster smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Maybe not. But I'm good at it."
Rea shook her head. "That's not something to be proud of."
He turned to look at her then, really look at her, like he was trying to figure out why she cared so much.
But before he could say anything, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Aster sighed, pulling it out.
His expression shifted instantly.
The lazy smirk was gone, replaced by something guarded.
"What?" Rea asked.
Aster ignored her, reading whatever was on his screen. His grip on the phone tightened.
Then, without a word, he stood and shoved it back into his pocket.
"Let's go," he muttered.
Rea frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
She didn't believe him.
But he was already walking toward the car.
So she followed.
---
The drive back was different.
Tense. Quiet in a way that didn't feel comfortable anymore.
Aster's fingers tapped against the steering wheel, his jaw tight.
Rea wanted to ask, but something told her he wouldn't answer.
So she just stared out the window, trying not to think about how much she hated this—this weird shift between them, this feeling like she was losing something before she even had it.
Finally, Aster pulled into her driveway and killed the engine.
Rea hesitated.
Then, before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Aster."
He turned to her. His expression was unreadable.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
Aster exhaled. For a second, she thought he might actually tell her.
But then he just smirked.
"Don't worry about me, new girl," he said.
And then, before she could say anything else, he reached over and pushed open her door.
Like he was telling her to leave.
Rea clenched her fists.
She wanted to say something. Push back.
But instead, she just grabbed her bag and got out of the car.
She didn't look back.
She didn't have to.
Because for the first time since she met him, Aster Westwood was the one watching her walk away.