We walked a bit more in silence. I could hear the waves crashing, some birds making noises in the distance, and—oh yeah, my stomach doing backflips again.
He glanced at me. "You said you're staying at the cottage, right?"
"Yeah."
"There's a market not far from here. Tiny, but it has most of what you'll need. Food, snacks, bug spray—trust me, you'll want that."
"Oh, great," I replied. "That was actually one of the reasons I came out here. To become a mosquito buffet."
He let out a laugh—quiet, but it sounded real. Not forced or awkward. Just… real.
"You get used to it," he said. "Anyway, the market's a few minutes this way. I'll walk you there, if that's okay."
"You know, I'm still not sure if I should trust you," I said, eyeing him carefully. "You just popped out of nowhere on a completely empty beach."
He shrugged, totally unbothered. "Fair. But if I wanted to murder you, I probably wouldn't do it in broad daylight, in public."
"That's… weirdly reassuring."
Another smirk. Seriously, does this man come with a smirk-per-minute rate?
"But you still haven't told me how you snuck up on me," I added.
"I didn't sneak. You were just very distracted," he said, that annoying glint in his eye again.
"Distracted? I was relaxing. There's a difference."
"Right. My mistake."
I rolled my eyes and kept walking, but the tiniest smile was tugging at the corner of my lips. I hated that he was making this bearable.
"So, is there anything else I should know?" I asked. "About this place, I mean. Other than the mosquitoes plotting my downfall."
He tilted his head, like he was thinking. "Hmm. Watch out for the tide. It can come in fast at night. And don't go too far into the woods behind the houses."
"Why?"
"Too easy to get lost."
He said it casually, but something in his tone made me pause.
I looked at him. "Is that your way of saying there's a creepy forest legend you're not telling me about?"
"No legends," he said, a little too quickly. "Just trees. And bad signal."
Okay. Noted. Avoid the creepy woods with 'just trees.'
"Thanks for the heads-up," I said. "Also, if I get eaten alive by bugs tonight, I'm blaming you."
"I'll accept full responsibility," he said, a bit too smoothly.
What is his deal?
The path opened up as we walked, and soon the rooftops of the town came into view. Just a quiet string of buildings, faded signs, and a street so narrow it felt like we'd wandered into someone's memory.
"That's it," Alan said, nodding toward a squat shop with chipped paint and a creaky green door.
"Mira's Market," I read off the sign. The 'R' was barely hanging on.
"Yeah. Locals swear by it," he said, like he was just stating a fact, not selling it.
I glanced at him. "Do you come here a lot?"
He gave a small shrug, easy and unreadable. "I pass by sometimes."
I stepped up to the door, and when I looked back, he was already turning around.
"Heading back?" I asked.
He nodded. "I'll see you around."
And just like that, he was off.
I watched him walk off, easy and unbothered, and for some reason, I didn't go inside right away.
There was something about him—quiet in a way that wasn't shy or awkward. Just… still. Like he belonged to the background of this place.
I shook it off and opened the door. A soft bell chimed overhead.
The market smelled like old wood and dried something—maybe herbs, maybe dust, hard to tell. It wasn't big— just a few shelves lined with some snacks, and some neatly labeled jars that looked homemade, it was stocked in a way that felt more like a kitchen pantry than a store.
Behind the counter sat a woman with short gray hair and a chunky knit sweater that looked like it had been through three generations and a house fire. She didn't look up.
"You're not from around here," she said, flipping a page in the book she was pretending to read.
I blinked. "Is it that obvious?"
"It's the shoes," she said dryly. "We don't get many sneakers."
Fair.
"Elaina," I offered.
"Nora." She finally looked up. "You staying long?"
"Just for a bit," I said. "Two-week break."
"Mmm." She didn't sound surprised. "Well, let me know what you're looking for. We don't have everything, but we've got the things that matter."
That… didn't feel like a normal store slogan. But okay.
I gave her a polite smile and started browsing. The silence felt thicker now, like the walls were listening. Still, nothing weird exactly.
I picked out a small loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a bottle of something fizzy that claimed to be orange-ginger flavored. Not exactly a feast, but enough to tide me over.
Nora barely said a word while ringing me up. Just watched me with that unreadable expression as she packed my things into a plain paper bag. Her silence wasn't unfriendly—just… quiet. Like the rest of this place.