how she set us up against each other," Evan sighed. His legs were crossed on the floor, mine stretched out, and our thighs were touching—something I was acutely aware of. "Angel and Devil, really? We're at war now, Edwards."

I rolled my eyes.

Ania craned her neck to our direction, a massive wall of Lego in her hands. Her eyes were focused, fingers placing little bricks together to form into what she called a house. Evan and I had raised a confused eyebrow at that, but her innovation stayed undeterred despite our silent criticism. It was motivational, how much faith she had in herself regardless of what we said, because none of what she made even faintly resembled a house.

"Her mind is unparalleled," I mused, catching Evan's undivided attention. "That's some futuristic design you'll see when the aliens take over."

He let out a breathy laugh. "Well, thank God. That is disobeying all the possible laws of Physics."

As if feeling the judgement in the air, the little kid's head whipped in our direction, eyes sharp. "Help me!" She whined, and walked close enough to press the roof of her building to my palms. "Talk later!"

I scooted closer to her, as did Evan. I felt his fingers brush my shoulder, and found him smiling at me. "Where do you want me to put this?" Ignoring the heat his touch left on my skin, I asked Ania, who pointed at the very top of a wall lacking any foundation.

Evan laughed. "Ania, do you want the building to fall?"

"No," she admitted, looking defeated. "I want to stay in it. With you both."

I paused, hands hovering in the air. Evan plucked the pieces out of my grasp, messing her hair with his other hand. "Then we cannot let it fall, can we?"

She grinned at him. "Absomutely not!"

"It's absolutely, you genius." He grabbed her frame and tickled her side until she had fallen into the space between us, giggling with pure joy. "Did you tell angel about the airship you created last week?"

For some reason, him calling me the nickname she had so childishly given made my heart skip a beat. My eyes couldn't tear away from his face as Ania pulled her pride and joy—the airship, I supposed—and placed it on my legs. And despite the marvel of a creation sitting on my lap, I was fascinated with something else altogether: how Evan's eyes softened at every little action this four-year-old managed to do, and how his words carried affection beyond anything I'd heard from him.

Ania was ranting about her airship, hands flailing to her sides. My focus was still transfixed on the boy who did not know I was staring.

"Angel?" She caught me.

Evan's eyes snapped to mine, concern morphing in them. "What happened?"

I shook my head. His lips twisted in a frown, but he didn't press the question. Ania's eyes dwindled between us both, spotting something we couldn't see, and her hands clasped in finality.

She tucked on my sleeve so she could whisper into my ear. I obliged, amused, because whatever she would speak would be easily audible to the three of us no matter the distance. We were huddled so close.

She grinned as she spoke: "Do you like him, angel?"

I had sprung back upright, and colour flooding my cheeks was instantaneous. She pressed, "You can tell me. I keep secrets safe."

There was no secret. Evan had leaned in like the pest he was, and was now laughing ear-to-ear, eyes glinting. Ania dropped him one of her glares, which actually proved effective, because he quit being annoying and went back to building the house.

I could tell he was still waiting for my answer, though. I rolled my eyes. "Yes, unfortunately." I confided in her. "I do like him."

Her tongue stuck out. "Good. We need to live together, so it's good," she grabbed the house from Evan's hold.

His lips titled in a smirk. "Unfortunately?"

"It's a disgrace." I glared.

Ania chimed in: "But you need to hold hands!"

"What?" Evan and I had synchronized reactions at this point.

She shrugged. "Since you are from very different worlds and very different creatures," she referred loosely to what she had declared us an hour ago. I was concerned about where she got all this knowledge, but her stories were peak fiction regardless of the source. "You should hold hands and get over your differences. In...arminie. You know, for world peace!"

Evan rolled his eyes, but his fingers slipped through mine in a seamless gesture—as if they were always supposed to find their place right between the gaps. He rose our intertwined hands in her face, and heat struck my chest like a match set on fire. "You mean harmony. This is no solution to world peace. What now?"

"Lunch!" Maria was shouting, as if on cue. "It's lunch time, kids!"

Ania leapt downstairs before both of us could even blink. Evan's fingers were still tied with my own, and he was tracing circles on the front of my hand. "I don't know what goes through her head," he muttered. "I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be concerned or intrigued."

I laughed. He tilted his head to my side, and I couldn't help but lean on his shoulders. "Whatever it is, it sure is a colourful place."

He nudged me. "And it results in me holding your hand."

"Oh, shut up." I ignored the gleam in his eyes. "You know you can hold it anytime."

▂

WHILE WE SAT on the barstools for the second time for lunch, Evan's phone rang. He dropped me a knowing glance, and I nodded as he excused himself upstairs. Ania was seated on the sofas, almost asleep, and Evelyn had finished eating and was curled beside her, fingers tapping on her phone.

I took a handful bite from the Tamales in my hand, looking over to the mastermind of a chef grinning across the counter at my sight. "Maria, you are an absolute food genius," I sighed. "Louisa's Diner doesn't do you justice."

I had never been so sure of anything my whole life. The pozole I had devoured a while ago had become my instant favourite upon my first time trying it out. She'd really poured her heart out in every single one of these, and I still had two more items to try.

She laughed. "Ah, mija, you flatter me. Drop by anytime you want to have my food. You don't even need to tell that fool of a boy."

"Does he pick out the paintings often?" I ended up asking after I had set the food down. Light fell through the narrow slits of the window behind us, and Aunt walked over to pull the blinds to the side. The atmosphere was a sheer contrast to that of Evan's home, I realized. Maria's nature was grounding and caring, easing even strangers like me. Her house reflected off of her entirely, gentleness and warmth tugging at every corner.

When her eyes flickered to mine with carefulness, I understood her hesitation. I didn't want to cross any line. "Sorry. I didn't mean to overstep."

She shook her head. "No, no. You aren't." She gave me a small smile. "He likes you, doesn't he? It's clear on his face. He has never brought a girl over, either."

My cheeks flushed. "I—he just happened to tell me," I tripped over my words. "I don't..."

"Oh, come on," she rolled her eyes, placing more food into my plate. "I know I'm old, but I know those looks you pass. And I've been around him so much, some sort of motherly instinct has been built into me. You look good together, mija."

She grinned whilst I sat, utterly embarrassed. Then she continued, this time with a sad smile on her face. "He's been doing that ever since my sister—his mother—died. Every year, around this time. November has never been easy for him. Too many memories." She dusted her hands on her apron. "It's his birthday next week."

I retaliated with wide, eager eyes. Wait, what? How did I not know? "Next week? Which date?"

"The twelfth. His mother's birthday fell ten days after, and they would always celebrate it together. I don't remember a year they didn't," she paused, eyes unsure. "The loss was almost unbearable for me. I still cannot understand what he must've gone through. He was so young, and grief stays with you. It latched to me for years, but I learnt to live with it. I still fear that he has some of him stuck in the past."

The mere thought of his sadness was painful, clenching my heart in vice grip.

"Laura," she sighed, and I brought my thoughts back to the present. She ran her eyes over my face, hope written over her features. "I want him happy on his day this year. Can you ensure that? That boy being sad might be the sole reason my sister never forgives me."

"He will be. I will make sure he is, Maria." There was so much I didn't know about him. "Please don't say that. Your sister is thankful for your presence in her son's life."

She smiled. "I'm so glad Evan has you."

I shook the awkwardness resting on my shoulders. "I'm glad to have him. So are our friends."

A gentle caress met my back, and I knew immediately who it was. "Hey," his voice was soft, eyes bright. "What'd I miss?"

Maria and I smiled. He pocketed his phone as he took his seat, and I felt his warmth surge through me even at a distance. A million questions appeared on the tip of my tongue, simply because I didn't know enough. I wanted everything: what he loved, what he hated, his favourite colour, song, ice-cream flavour. What his Sundays were like. What his comfort movie was. What he did to relax after a long day. Everything.

I needed all the jig-saw pieces which completed the enigma he was.

I found my fingers running through the curls on the back of his head without thought. He snapped his attention to me, a one-sided grin on his face. "Can't keep your hands to yourself?"

I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched.

Interrogation and bombarding him with my million questions came second to dropping Xavier a quick message, way out of Evan's sight. You did not tell me it's his birthday next week.

My mind raced, ideas upon ideas resurfacing and then crashing down. Suddenly, I knew none of what he liked. I barely knew anything about him, and it was going to pose such a big problem that I had already started panicking, thoughts running into overdrive.

Xavier: Am I supposed to know who we're talking about?

I couldn't help glare into the screen. Don't be a smartass.

He replied: Okay. Okay. We shall plan. We sort of already have a plan. Don't you worry.

I forgot I was zoning out entirely until fingertips graced my back, coiling against the fabric of my t-shirt. A deep laugh elicited from Evan, his arm enveloping my frame from below.

I flushed. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing." His fingers trailed upwards, curling around my flowing hair before tucking it behind my ear. "You're pretty."

Little bolts of lightning flashed under my skin and diffused into my veins, skittering all the way to my head. When he laughed, I knew he was doing this on purpose. "Evan."

I wasn't used to being this casual with him when his touches drove me right out of my mind. I wasn't sure I'd ever be. I wasn't sure I ever wanted to be.

So I looked at him, the smile he so effortlessly only gave to me playing on his mouth, and let it be branded to my memory in gold.

no bc why are they both the biggest simps???

q. what's a recent book you made your entire personality?

you're golden,

abrial

[ twitter: @/abrialtales ]