Vanessa paused mid-sentence.
She had been speaking freely—hands gesturing softly, voice light with passion—but now her words trailed off as her eyes met his.
Vince was staring.
Not in a distracted way. Not in a typical teenage boy way. He looked at her like she was the only thing in the room. Like every word she said mattered. Like he was memorizing her.
It made her uneasy.
"I've talked too much," she said, standing up abruptly and brushing imaginary dust from her skirt. "I should go."
Vince blinked, snapped out of his trance. "Wait—at least let me walk you to your mom's shop."
She hesitated, eyes narrowed.
"I don't really want you following me there," she said. "But... knowing you, you'll do it anyway."
She picked up her bag and glanced over her shoulder.
"So fine. Follow me—but from a distance."
A smirk crept onto his face. "That's fine by me."
They exited the convenience store, one after the other, stepping back into the early evening light. She didn't wait for him. He didn't walk beside her. But he followed—like always—silently keeping pace.
As they neared her mother's flower shop, Vanessa suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
Vince, trailing a few steps behind like she asked, looked up in confusion.
She turned toward him and motioned. "Come here."
He blinked. "Wait—now you want me close? Didn't you just tell me to keep my distance?"
"There's an annoying guy in front of the shop," she said flatly, nodding ahead.
Vince followed her gaze—and his stomach sank.
There, leaning casually against the storefront window with his hands in his pockets, stood Darian. The school's poster boy for charming trouble.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Vince asked, already bristling.
"He lives nearby," Vanessa replied.
"That bastard lives here?"
"Seems like you don't like him."
"No one does," Vince muttered.
Vanessa's eyes lingered on Darian, her jaw tightening just slightly.
"Stick close," she said. "And don't say anything. Just stay beside me."
Vince swallowed his impulse to flex, nodding instead. "O... okay."
She started walking, and he followed—shoulder to shoulder this time.
They walked up to the shop—shoulder to shoulder—until they came face-to-face with him.
Darian.
Leaning against the wall like he owned the place, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, posture smug.
He looked at Vanessa, then shifted his eyes to Vince.
"Vanessa," he said, "why are you walking around with this guy?"
Vanessa didn't flinch. "Why are you here? I told you to stop coming to my mom's shop."
Darian shrugged. "What, I can't buy some flowers now?"
"No one believes that," she said, tone flat. "Especially not me."
He stepped forward slightly, scoffing. "You've got a weird way of treating someone who actually likes you. And what's with him?" He jabbed a thumb toward Vince. "Spoiled rich kid clinging to you like a stray."
Vince didn't even blink. "Funny coming from a guy who chases every girl with a pulse."
Darian's jaw tightened. In one swift motion, he grabbed Vince by the collar.
"What did you just say, you little fu—"
Vince's eyes darkened. "Try it. I've been waiting for a reason to knock your teeth in ever since you messed with Karina."
"Enough!" Vanessa snapped, shoving herself between them.
The tension broke just as the shop door creaked open.
Celia appeared, eyes wide and voice sharp. "What's going on out here?"
Darian clicked his tongue and turned away.
"Tch. Whatever. Keep your mutt on a leash," he muttered, storming off down the road.
They watched him go in silence—Vanessa with clenched fists, Vince with fire still in his eyes.
Celia looked between them, then down the street. "Do I even want to know?"
Vanessa sighed. "No, Mom. Not today."
Vince sat stiffly beside Vanessa, the wooden chair creaking beneath him as he tried to sit upright and composed. Across the table, Celia leaned forward with folded arms, her eyes narrowing with amused suspicion. It was the kind of stare that could make even grown men confess to things they didn't do.
"So..." she began, "are you her boyfriend?"
Before Vince could even open his mouth, Vanessa shot up from her seat.
"No! Mom, seriously—he's not."
Celia raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Right. And he's just casually here, side by side with you, after getting in a fight in front of my shop?"
Vanessa crossed her arms, clearly annoyed. "I told you, we're not together ."
"Mmm," Celia hummed. "Didn't look that way yesterday when he was following you."
Then her gaze shifted fully to Vince. He swallowed hard.
"What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Vince Balar, ma'am."
Her eyes twitched at the name. "Balar?" she repeated. "That sounds... familiar."
She squinted slightly, then shook it off. "Anyway, Vince—what exactly do you like about my daughter?"
Vanessa's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Mom!"
Celia ignored her, grinning playfully now.
Vince, face heating up, looked down for a second—then met Celia's gaze.
"She's honest. She's sharp. She doesn't try to impress anyone, and I guess that makes me want to impress her even more."
Vanessa blinked.
Celia leaned back, smirking. "Huh. Not bad, Balar."
Vanessa muttered, "Don't encourage him."