Aria's POV

The soft glow of morning light crept through my curtains, slanting across the walls in lazy, golden streaks. I blinked slowly, the heaviness from last night still clinging to me like a damp towel I couldn't shake off. My chest felt tight, my thoughts jumbled, and for a moment, I didn't want to get out of bed.

Jack's family dinner had gone better than I expected—his mom was sweet, his dad funny in a dad-joke kind of way, and his siblings were little terrors, but not in a bad way. They'd even made me laugh, despite the awkwardness of meeting them for the first time. It was... nice. Too nice. And that's what overwhelmed me.

The warmth, the laughter, the ease with which they accepted me—it was so far from what I was used to that it left me completely off-balance, like standing on the edge of a cliff without a safety net. I've spent so long building walls, hiding in plain sight, staying invisible. But last night, Jack had pulled me right out into the open without even trying, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was, for him. But for me? It was terrifying.

I'm not even sure how we got here. Ever since that project we did together—it feels like forever ago now—everything between us has been shifting, changing in ways I never saw coming. Back then, I was just a freshman, admiring Jack from a distance, carrying a quiet, secret crush on him like some fragile thing I didn't dare touch. And now here I am, dating him.

It's still surreal, and maybe that's what scares me the most. Jack and I have been in this constant push and pull—me trying to protect myself, to pull away before he got too close, because I didn't believe he'd stay. Not when there's all this power inside me that seems to grow stronger every day, no matter how hard I try to keep it under control. And the worst part? I still don't understand any of it.

There are too many unanswered questions—the moon ring, Elara's cryptic advice, the strange pull of the ocean that's only getting louder. And then there's the full moon. The first time I experienced it, I don't even remember what happened. It bewitched me, pulled me under like I was caught in a dream I couldn't wake from.

Now, with another full moon rising tonight, I can't help but wonder—what will it do to me this time?

I turned on my side and stared at the moon ring resting on my finger. The cool metal buzzed softly against my skin, humming in sync with the quiet hum in the back of my mind. It was subtle but constant, like the ocean calling to me from miles away. It was always like this before a full moon—like my body was tuned into some hidden frequency that only mermaids could hear.

"Every time the full moon rises, I feel it—like it's reminding me of what I really am," I whispered to myself, the words settling heavily in the quiet of my room.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand and thumbed through my messages until I landed on Jack's contact. After last night, I'd thought it would be easier to breathe this morning, but the tightness in my chest hadn't gone away. If anything, it was worse. The full moon was tonight, and I already felt its pull, wrapping around me like invisible threads.

I typed out a quick message:

Me: Full moon tonight. Feels like it's already starting.

I hit send and stared at the screen, waiting. Jack's reply came almost immediately, as I knew it would.

Jack: No running off to the ocean without me, babe. See you soon.

I smiled despite myself, the heaviness in my chest easing just a little. Jack had this way of grounding me, like he knew exactly how to make me feel like everything wasn't spinning out of control.

Still, I couldn't shake the strange restlessness curling in my stomach. My fingers twisted the moon ring absentmindedly, the soft vibration against my skin steady and familiar. It was just a regular full moon tonight—nothing special, no planetary alignments or mystical transformations. And yet, it felt like the ocean was calling me more strongly than usual, tugging at me from somewhere deep and distant.

The events from last night looped through my mind—Jack's siblings teasing us, his mom insisting I take leftovers, the way Jack held my hand under the table like it was the most natural thing in the world. His family was warm, kind, and overwhelming in the best way. But as much as I'd liked them, it also left me feeling... exposed. Vulnerable.

I'd spent years keeping people at arm's length, guarding my secrets like treasure locked in a chest at the bottom of the sea. And now, Jack was slowly prying that chest open, piece by piece. It terrified me how easy it was becoming to let him in.

But even with that fear gnawing at me, I didn't want to push him away. Not anymore.

I exhaled a slow breath, my fingers still tracing lazy circles around the moon ring. Jack's message lingered on my screen, a quiet reminder that I wasn't alone in this.

Maybe I didn't have to carry everything by myself. Maybe, for once, I could let someone else in.

The thought both comforted and scared me. But right now, as the hum of the moon ring grew a little stronger and the pull of the ocean whispered softly in the back of my mind, I let myself lean into that comfort—into Jack's steady presence, even from a distance.

Tonight was just a regular full moon. Nothing special.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself. But the way my heart thrummed beneath my ribs, restless and eager, I knew better.

Something was coming. I could feel it in my bones.

I descended the stairs slowly, my thumb hovering over my phone, ready to message Jack again. But then I heard it—a soft hum of conversation from the dining room. It made me pause mid-step. I wasn't used to that sound, not in this house.

Peeking around the corner, I saw them. My parents. Actually, sitting together at the table, looking... normal. My mom had her hands wrapped around a coffee cup; her gaze distant but soft. My dad scrolled through his tablet with a bored expression. It was such a simple scene, but it stopped me cold.

They looked comfortable, like they belonged to a life that didn't have much room for me in it. That old, familiar ache began to twist in my chest—one I thought I'd buried a long time ago.

My mom glanced up first, her expression shifting into something that resembled a smile. "Oh, Aria. I didn't expect you to be up this early. How are you feeling?"

Her tone was polite, casual, like she was checking a box on a to-do list. I shifted on my feet, brushing my fingers through my hair. "I'm fine," I mumbled.

My dad looked up briefly, just long enough to make eye contact before going back to his tablet. "You look tired," he said absently. "Maybe you should try to get some rest before school starts up again." His words felt mechanical, as if he'd said them out of habit more than concern.

The knot in my chest pulled tighter. These kinds of conversations—empty, surface-level check-ins—always left me feeling more alone than if they hadn't spoken at all. They were here, but not really.

Mom sipped her coffee, that faint, faraway smile still on her lips. "Do you need anything, sweetheart? I could order groceries if you want something special for dinner."

I shook my head quickly. "No, I'm good. Thanks."

The silence that followed was heavy. Too heavy. I could almost hear the distance between us, like an invisible wall separating me from them, even though we were only a few feet apart.

They exchanged a glance, a silent agreement to slip back into their world. My dad scrolled on his tablet again, and Mom turned her attention back to the coffee, both of them falling back into their routine. I was an afterthought, lingering on the edges of their lives.

"I just came down to grab some water," I muttered, already moving toward the kitchen, eager to escape the weight pressing on my chest.

"Okay, honey," Mom said lightly, as if that was enough. "Don't stay up too late, alright?"

My dad grunted, lost in whatever article he was reading.

I stepped into the kitchen, the quiet hum of the moon ring buzzing against my finger, subtle but insistent. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, watching the surface ripple slightly. The coolness of the glass in my hand grounded me for just a second, but it wasn't enough to stop the familiar ache from spreading.

I stared at the water, a strange sense of emptiness welling up inside me. It felt like the ocean—always out of reach, always calling. The pull toward something more, something real, pressed against my ribs, tightening with every breath.

By the time I was back downstairs, the house felt even bigger and emptier than before. The high ceilings, spotless hardwood floors, and perfectly staged furniture only added to the sense that it was more show than home. The only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the wood beneath my feet as I slipped on my shoes.

I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The neatly manicured lawn stretched toward the iron gate at the end of our long driveway, and the tall oak trees lining the street swayed gently in the breeze. Everything about this neighborhood was picture-perfect—gated, quiet, and pristine, just the way my parents liked it. But to me, it always felt like a gilded cage.

Jack's red BMW purred softly as it pulled up at the curb of my driveway, the sleek finish gleaming under the early morning light. His grin was visible through the windshield even before he rolled it down, the low hum of the engine vibrating faintly in the air. He leaned casually against the wheel, one hand draped over the gear shift, exuding that effortless ease that seemed to follow him everywhere—like gravity bent just for him. The cool breeze ruffled his tousled hair, and the faint scent of leather drifted from the open window, grounding me in the moment, as if the weight I carried had no place near him.

I climbed in, the soft creak of the leather seat beneath me as the door clicked shut with a satisfying thud. The familiar scent of leather mingled with the warm spice of Jack's cologne—a blend of cedar and something faintly citrusy—enveloping me like a warm embrace. The coolness of the seat pressed against the back of my thighs, grounding me, as the gentle hum of the engine vibrated beneath my feet. For a moment, the tension from earlier slipped away, loosened by the steady rhythm of Jack's presence. I let myself melt into the simplicity of the moment, the warmth radiating from him making the chaos of the day feel a little more distant.

Jack shot me a sideways glance as I buckled my seatbelt, the teasing grin already in place. "So, breakfast? We're gonna need all the energy we can get for that full moon tonight. You still riding the iced pumpkin chai wave, or are you finally gonna surprise me with something new?"

I rolled my eyes, though a smile tugged at my lips anyway. "You realize you're dating a girl who's fully obsessed with pumpkin season, right? Don't act shocked."

Jack chuckled, shifting the car into drive. "Fair enough. But one of these days, you might switch it up and blow my fucking mind."

I shot him a playful glare, already feeling lighter in his presence. "Be prepared."

I rolled my eyes, brushing a hand through my hair as we cruised toward the diner. "You've got some nerve, Mr. Plain Black Coffee, giving me shit about variety."

"Black coffee's a fucking classic, babe. It's good for the heart. Keeps me sharp—sharp enough to keep up with your pumpkin-crazed ass."

I huffed, trying to hide my smile. "So what you're saying is, you're boring as fuck and expecting me to be the wild one?"

"Exactly," Jack replied, shooting me a smug sideways glance. "But lucky for you, boring boyfriends are the best. Steady as hell. No drama."

I snorted. "Drama? Babe, you're so full of shit. If anyone brings drama, it's you. Let's not forget freshman year and the trail of broken hearts you left behind—right up until now."

Jack's grin widened, his eyes flicking toward me with that smug, infuriating glint. "Oh, so you're really gonna pull that shit on me, huh? And who's the obsessed one? You, knowing all about my track record—and yet, here you are."

I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips gave me away. "Yeah, yeah. I guess I am obsessed with you then, asshole."

Jack let out a low laugh, warm and cocky, the kind that always made my heart flutter no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. His hand drummed lazily on the steering wheel, his grin spreading wider like he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin.

"You're lucky I like you, pumpkin girl," he teased, nudging my leg lightly with his knee.

I fought the urge to laugh, but it slipped out anyway, the kind of easy, unguarded laugh that only Jack ever managed to pull from me.

Moments like this—just us, messing around and not taking anything too seriously—made all the chaos in my head fade to a quiet hum. The awkward encounter with my parents that morning, with their half-hearted concern and distant smiles, drifted further away, lost somewhere between Jack's grin and the familiar hum of his car. Even with the full moon looming tonight, stirring that strange pull toward the ocean, right now, in this stupid red BMW, the only thing that felt real was us.

Jack's laugh rumbled low in his chest, warm and familiar, wrapping around me like a favorite song on repeat. His presence filled the car with an easy comfort, the kind only he could bring. Moments like these—where we could just screw around, laughing like idiots—made everything else feel a little more manageable. The weird ocean pull, the lingering questions about the moon ring, and the way my parents had acted earlier—like I was an afterthought—didn't seem so heavy. Right now, all of it took a backseat to us.

And honestly? I wouldn't change a fucking thing.

We found a booth near the back, tucked away from the noise of the morning crowd. It smelled like pancakes, coffee, and syrup—a mix that instantly made me feel a little more grounded. Jack slid into the booth across from me, stretching out his legs so his foot nudged mine under the table. He gave me that easy grin of his, the one that made my heart skip a beat no matter how many times I saw it.

Here's the enhanced version, keeping the playful banter and chemistry between Aria and Jack intact:

"So," Jack said, leaning back against the booth with that familiar, teasing glint in his eye. "What's the plan, babe? You want me to stay over tonight? I mean, you're gonna be home alone since your parents are MIA—again. And I gotta admit, I'm curious." He gave me that smug grin that made my stomach flip. "What's my drunk little mermaid gonna do this time, huh? Now that I know the full moon messes with you and you don't remember shit, I've got some leverage. Something to hold over you if you ever try to bail on me."

I rolled my eyes, kicking him lightly under the table. "You're not funny, Carter. If you even think about recording anything, or pull some shit, I swear—you'll never make it into my vlogs or even my Instagram feed. Keep up this attitude, and you'll be completely erased from my social media existence."

Jack clutched his chest dramatically, his grin never faltering. "Ouch, babygirl. You're breaking my heart over here. And here I thought I'd already earned my spot. Which, by the way, you still haven't given me."

I shook my head, fighting back a grin that threatened to slip through. "Yeah, well, with the way you're talking right now? It might just stay that way. Forever."

A mischievous smile tugged at my lips as I shot him a mock-evil grin.

Jack laughed, low and warm, the sound settling comfortably between us. "Damn. Guess I gotta step up my game, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, taking a sip of my chai, savoring the cool, spiced sweetness. "And good luck with that, babe. You've got a lot to make up for."

He grinned across the table, kicking me back lightly under the booth. "Challenge accepted, pumpkin girl."

The playful banter hung between us, light and easy, like the steady hum of the diner around us. And in that moment, it didn't matter that the full moon was coming or that my powers might make tonight unpredictable. Right now, it was just me and Jack, wrapped in the kind of comfort only he could bring. And honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way.

The waitress swung by, setting down our drinks with a practiced smile. Jack grabbed his black coffee, taking a slow sip before giving me that look—the one that always said he was about to mess with me.

"You know," he began, setting his cup down with a soft clink, "I think it's time to change your nickname. Babygirl doesn't fit anymore. I should just call you Pumpkin with the way you're addicted to that shit. Seriously, how do you even handle the taste?"

Before I could respond, Jack pulled out his phone, his smirk widening as he tapped the screen. "Check this out," he said, tilting it toward me.

I leaned in, squinting at the screen—and there it was. He'd changed my contact name to My Obsessive Pumpkin Girl with a stupid little pumpkin emoji next to it.

I shot him a glare, kicking him lightly under the table. "Really, Carter?"

Jack just grinned like he'd won the lottery. "What? It's accurate. You've got a full-on pumpkin addiction, babe. Not my fault I've fallen for someone so... seasonally obsessed."

I rolled my eyes, taking a smug sip of my iced pumpkin chai. "Sorry, not sorry. You're the one who couldn't resist my 'push away' strategy during that project." I gave him a pointed look over the rim of my cup. "Now you've got a girlfriend who's all about pumpkin, and you're just gonna have to deal with it."

"Deal with it?" Jack snorted, shaking his head as he took another sip of his coffee. "Babe, you are my problem now. No backing out."

Jack leaned back in the booth, his leg brushing against mine under the table, a quiet reminder of his presence. His coffee steamed lazily between his hands, the rich aroma curling in the space between us. I sipped my iced pumpkin chai, the cool, spiced sweetness coating my tongue, grounding me in the moment.

The vinyl seat beneath me squeaked softly as I shifted, the smooth surface cool against the backs of my legs. The warmth of the sun filtered through the diner's windows, casting golden streaks across the table, catching the glint of Jack's watch as he drummed his fingers lightly against the edge of his cup. The steady tap-tap-tap matched the easy rhythm of our conversation—effortless, unhurried, like we had all the time in the world.

For a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. No moon, no powers, no unanswered questions gnawing at the edges of my mind. Just the two of us, tucked into this little booth, wrapped in the comfortable hum of the diner. The world outside could wait. Right here, right now, it was just me and Jack—his teasing grin, the warmth of his leg against mine, and the quiet magic of an ordinary morning.

The bell over the door jingled, and I looked up just as Brent and Eli strolled into the diner. Brent spotted us immediately, his grin widening as he made a beeline for our booth. Eli followed close behind, looking a little more worn out than usual, his tired smile doing little to hide the weight he carried.

Brent leaned casually on the edge of the booth, crossing his arms as he looked between Jack and me, his smirk growing wider by the second. "Did we walk in on something? Looks like Jack here is hopelessly in love with Aria."

The comment made me shift in my seat, the air suddenly feeling too warm. Jack and I hadn't thrown around words like love yet, and Brent tossing it out so casually had my heart racing. I glanced over at Jack, wondering how he'd respond, but he just met my gaze briefly—something unspoken passing between us—before shifting his attention back to Brent, cool and unfazed.

Without missing a beat, Jack kicked the empty space under the table, aiming for Brent. "Yeah, well, just because football season's over doesn't mean I can't still give you shit. Next season, I'll make sure it's even harder for you."

Brent dodged the kick effortlessly, laughing as he slid into the booth beside Jack. "Relax, man. It's still weird as hell seeing you last this long with a girl. Everyone's buzzing about it—Aria dating the school's golden boy and you, Mr. 'I-don't-do-serious-relationships,' actually settling down? It's kind of throwing everyone off."

Jack rolled his eyes, nudging Brent with his shoulder. "Yeah, well, my relationship is my business. It's not yours, and it's definitely not anyone else's." He gave Brent a pointed look. "We keep the deeper-level shit between us."

Brent chuckled, clearly entertained by Jack's defensiveness. "Okay, okay, calm down. I was just saying—it's nice to know the star quarterback has feelings. Actual emotions and a soft side."

Jack shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying a grin. "Don't push your luck, man."

Brent threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just impressed. Who knew Carter could catch feelings—and keep them?"

Jack shot him a glare, but I could see the amusement lurking beneath it. "Keep talking, Brent. See if I throw you a single pass next season."

I stifled a laugh, sipping my iced chai to hide my smile. There was something about the way Jack handled his friends' teasing—how he let them push just enough before pulling them back—that made me admire him even more.

The banter between them settled into the kind of rhythm that only close friends could have, easy and unforced. Jack leaned back in the booth, relaxed, while Brent nudged him again with a grin. "So, Aria, how's it feel dating the school's untouchable guy? Got any secrets about him we should know?"

I smirked, glancing at Jack. "If I told you, where's the fun in that?"

Jack chuckled, sliding an arm casually along the back of the booth. "Yeah, good luck prying anything out of her."

Brent rolled his eyes. "Man, you've gone soft. It's disgusting."

Jack shot him a sideways smirk. "Yeah, well, at least I'm happy."

Brent groaned dramatically. "Jesus. You're killing me, Carter."

"Good," Jack said, grinning. "That's the goal."

Eli sat down on the table being quiet and it seemed like he didn't even sleep much. 

I looked at him and saw dark circles under his eyes and it seemed like his relationship seems like it is going downhill. 

The conversation at the table shifted to lighter topics—football, game strategies, and Brent's ridiculous idea to start a 'team TikTok account' for hype. Jack shot that idea down almost immediately, which led to more playful bickering between him and Brent. The easy rhythm between them felt familiar and comforting, but I couldn't ignore the way Eli sat quietly, swirling his coffee with his spoon, lost in thought.

I leaned toward Eli slightly, keeping my voice low enough that only he could hear. "If it's not working, don't force it," I said gently, hoping he'd hear the support beneath my words.

He glanced at me, surprise flickering across his tired features. For a second, I thought he might brush it off—shrug it away like everything was fine. But instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I highly doubt it would even work," he mumbled, the words laced with resignation.

I tilted my head, giving him a look that silently asked for more, but Eli didn't offer anything else. His attention drifted back to his phone, the glow from the screen casting a soft light over his face. He stared at it like he was scrolling through memories—ones that hurt more than they should. I could see it in the way his expression tightened, in the subtle flicker of betrayal that crossed his features.

It was strange, seeing Eli like this. This was the guy who had always been the steady one—the friend who had my back without hesitation, who protected me when Jack got too close to the truth about my secret. He was the one who kept nudging me toward honesty, toward being real with Jack even when I wanted to run. And now? Now, he just looked... tired. Tired and vulnerable, like the weight of holding it all together was finally catching up with him.

The sight of it made my chest ache. For all his jokes, his easy smiles, and the way he carried everyone else's burdens without complaint—Eli was struggling. And for once, it didn't seem like he had the strength to hide it.

I wanted to say something, anything that might help. But I knew from experience that sometimes, words weren't enough. So instead, I gave him a small, understanding smile—a silent reminder that he wasn't as alone as he might feel.

Eli caught the look, his lips twitching slightly as if to return the gesture, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You're a good friend, Aria," he murmured, his voice soft and weary. "Thanks."

Jack caught the exchange and arched a brow at Eli. "You two having a secret heart-to-heart over there?"

Eli rolled his eyes, but the weariness in his expression lingered, heavier than usual. "Don't get jealous, Carter. I'm really not in the mood for your jokes—or anyone else's." His voice was flat, edged with exhaustion, like he was barely holding it together.

Before Jack could fire back, I kicked him lightly under the table, giving him a sharp look. "Babe, not now," I muttered, the warning clear in my tone.

Jack raised his hands in mock surrender, a small, guilty grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Okay, okay. I wasn't trying to piss him off—just thought I'd lighten the mood."

I shot him a look, one brow raised. "Yeah, well, you're not helping."

Jack sighed, leaning back in the booth and cradling his coffee between his hands. "Noted," he murmured, his smirk softening into something more apologetic.

The tension hovered between us for a moment, heavy but not unbearable. Jack meant well—he always did. But this wasn't a moment that needed jokes or banter. It needed space, and Jack wasn't the best at reading that, even when his heart was in the right place.

Eli let out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as he stared into his coffee cup like it might offer answers. His silence felt louder than anything, and for once, Jack stayed quiet, letting the moment settle without trying to fix it.

We sat there for a while longer, the four of us tucked away in the cozy booth, wrapped in the hum of the diner around us. Jack and Brent's playful banter carried the conversation forward, making it easy to forget, if only for a little while, the heaviness that waited just outside this moment.

And honestly? This was exactly what I needed—no powers, no full moon, just good friends, warm coffee, and the comfort of knowing we weren't alone in any of it.

The BMW hummed softly as Jack navigated the quiet streets, the dim glow of streetlights flickering on as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. The day had felt long—too long, if I was honest. Between the diner, the endless teasing from Brent, and Eli's exhausted vulnerability, the weight of it all pressed heavily on my chest. And now, with the full moon creeping closer, that familiar hum from my moon ring returned, buzzing steadily against my skin, as if reminding me I couldn't escape what was coming.

I leaned my head against the window, watching the world outside blur by in muted tones of twilight. The cool glass against my cheek was grounding, but it did little to stop the tension slowly building within me. The full moon had a way of pulling at parts of me I didn't fully understand—parts I tried to ignore until they refused to be silenced.

Jack sneaked a glance at me, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. His expression shifted, more serious now, as the comfortable silence between us broke. "The full moon is coming," he said quietly, concern flickering across his face. "You sure you're going to be all right? You'll be alone in the house... and, well, you remember what happened last time."

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the night pressing down on me, making my shoulders sag. "I'll be fine. I mean, I'm just going to stay inside all night. No ocean, no drama. Easy."

Jack gave me a skeptical look, shifting in his seat and sneaking a playful grin in my direction. "Babygirl, are you really sure that's a good idea? Last time, you practically exposed yourself at the beach. Do you know how hard it was to drag your ass out of there? You're heavy as hell in mermaid mode. Total workout."

My eyes widened in horror. "What?" Panic flickered through me, and I twisted in my seat to face him fully. "Wait, what do you mean I exposed myself? Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

Jack smirked, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. "Oops. Might've forgotten to mention that little part. Sorry, babe."

I groaned, leaning back into the seat, my mind racing. If I'd done something that reckless without even remembering it, what else could have slipped through the cracks? The idea of accidentally exposing myself—literally—to the world had my stomach twisting in knots. Maybe letting Jack stay over wasn't such a bad idea after all. I hated the thought of needing someone to watch over me, but the alternative seemed worse.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Maybe you should stay over... just in case."

Jack's grin widened, a spark of mischief lighting up his expression as he shifted gears smoothly, the car gliding down the quiet street toward my house. "Well, babe, that's gonna cost you if you want me to babysit you tonight."

I shot him a look, but the corner of my mouth twitched despite myself. "Of course it will."

He winked, clearly reveling in my annoyance. "Hey, I don't come cheap, pumpkin girl. Gotta charge for these premium services."

I rolled my eyes, trying—and failing—not to smile. "Still holding on to that nickname, huh? So, which one's it gonna be, babe? Or do I have to start calling you 'football player' from now on?"

Jack's laugh was warm and easy, filling the space between us like sunlight through a window. "Good question. I think I'll just keep switching it up on you—keep you on your toes. You're too predictable with your drink choices anyway." He shot me a teasing grin. "But seriously? Football player? That's the best you've got? Babe, that's weak."

"Okay, fine—how about Carter?" I countered, arching an eyebrow.

Jack shook his head, smirking. "Now that just sounds like I'm in trouble. You say that, and I'll be thinking you're about to ground me or some shit. Try again."

I groaned, throwing my hands up in mock surrender. "Ugh, forget it. I give up!"

Jack chuckled, his grin spreading wider. "That's what I thought."

The laughter between us melted the day's tension, easing the weight on my chest bit by bit. He always had a way of turning any moment into something light—something that made me forget, if only for a little while, the full moon creeping closer.

Jack parked the BMW smoothly in front of my house, the soft rumble of the engine fading into the quiet night. I stepped out into the cool air, my heart beating a little faster as I caught a glimpse of silver light creeping along the edge of the street. The moon. I forced my gaze down, focusing instead on the front steps, knowing that one look was all it would take to send everything spiraling out of control.

Jack followed close behind, his hand brushing mine. I took it without hesitation, the warmth of his touch grounding me as the steady hum of my moon ring pressed against my skin, more insistent now that the full moon was out in full force. The buzz wasn't just background noise anymore—it was a pulse, a reminder that the night wasn't going to play nice.

When we reached the door, I let out a slow, frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. "After what you told me about that night on the beach... exposing myself without even knowing—fuck it, maybe you should stay over. You're the only one who knows what the hell happened."

Jack arched a brow, that familiar, cocky grin sliding into place. "Thought you'd never ask, babe. But let me tell you, full-moon Aria? Fucking wild and clingy—way out of your comfort zone."

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Ugh, seriously? And you're not going to tell me what else I did?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into that low, teasing murmur that sent a shiver down my spine. "Nope. That's locked in my memory forever, babe. Premium access only."

I shot him a glare, though the nervous laugh bubbling in my chest betrayed me. "I swear to God, Carter, you're gonna hold that over me, aren't you?"

His grin widened, lazy and smug, as his thumb stroked slow circles over the back of my hand. "Oh, you bet your ass I will. Leverage like that? Too good to waste." He glanced toward the faint glow creeping over the rooftops. "Also, do me a favor—don't fucking look at the moon, babygirl. I'm not ready to handle another round of bold Aria just yet."

I shook my head, keeping my gaze glued to the ground. "I hate you right now—for saying that and for keeping all these vague-ass details to yourself."

Jack's laugh was low and warm, a sound that somehow melted the edges of my frustration. "Aw, cruel words, babe. You don't mean that." His grin softened as he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "And yeah, I'm keeping those details. Call it self-preservation."

"Come on, my obsessed pumpkin girl." Jack's voice was light, teasing as he nudged me gently through the doorway. "Let's get you inside before the moon decides it wants its favorite mermaid back."

I stepped inside, keeping my head down, grateful for the walls shielding me from the silver glow creeping across the sky. "I don't think I'm ready for this," I mumbled, the weight of the night settling deep in my chest.

Jack shrugged off his jacket and tossed it lazily over the back of the couch, flashing me that cocky grin I both loved and hated. "You've got me, babe. We've got this." He shot me a wink, his grin widening. "Consider yourself officially under mermaid lockdown—boyfriend-approved and everything."

I grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and threw it at him. "You're on couch duty. No complaints."

Jack caught the blanket easily, flopping onto the couch with a content sigh. "Couch duty, moon patrol—man, I really know how to pick my nights. And lucky me, it involves a cute mermaid."

Despite myself, a laugh escaped, the knot in my chest loosening just a little. Jack always had a way of making things feel lighter, even when the weight of everything felt too much.

He leaned back into the cushions, adjusting the blanket with the kind of ease that said he was already settling in for the night. "But seriously, babe, I've got you. Just... try not to look at the moon, okay?"

I nodded, though the buzzing tension still clung to the edges of my mind. The moon ring thrummed steadily against my finger, like it knew something I didn't. My gaze flickered toward the windows, watching as the moonlight stretched along the floor—silver and slow, like an uninvited guest creeping into places it didn't belong.

Jack's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, soft but steady. "This is your second full moon, and this time I'm here." His expression shifted, more serious now, like he was thinking back to that night on the beach. "The first one caught me off guard—I didn't know what the hell was going on, and yeah, I was pissed at you. But now? I know what to do when it happens again. If I see you getting bewitched, I've got it covered."

A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of my mouth—something I couldn't quite put into words. "Thanks, babe. You're the best."

I leaned down, surprising even myself as I pressed a quick, soft kiss to his lips. It was impulsive, not the kind of thing I usually did, but somehow, it felt right.

Jack blinked, visibly caught off guard but clearly amused, that signature grin of his sliding back into place. "Whoa, that's new. You sure you're not already bewitched, babe?" he murmured, his voice teasing but warm.

I swatted his arm playfully, rolling my eyes. "Shut up, Carter."

He chuckled, adjusting the blanket over himself again, his grin still lingering as his eyes fluttered shut. "I'm just saying... Bold Aria might be making an early appearance."

"Goodnight, Jack," I muttered, though the smile tugging at my lips betrayed my attempt to sound annoyed.

Jack's laugh was low and content as he snuggled into the couch. "Night, pumpkin girl. I've got you."

And just like that, the tension hanging in the air lifted—if only a little. With Jack sprawled on the couch, moon patrol in full effect, it was easier to breathe. Easier to believe that, maybe, I wouldn't lose myself to the moon tonight.

But as I turned off the lights and headed toward my room, the hum of the moon ring reminded me that the night wasn't over yet. And the moon outside? It wasn't one to be ignored.

<>

A/N: Oh, what a chapter let's see what happens next! But wait, here is an additional scene. Eli's POV. I should probably break it into a chapter, but I think these bonus scenes adds to what I'm planning. 

Bonus: Eli's POV

The café was quiet, save for the low hum of jazz filtering through the speakers and the occasional clink of dishes behind the counter. The smell of stale coffee hung in the air, mixing with hints of cinnamon from leftover pastries in the display case. I sat across from her, my hands wrapped around a cold cup of black coffee, as the ache in my chest twisted tighter with every word she said.

"It didn't mean anything," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her guilt. "I love you, Eli. You're the only one I want."

I stared at her, jaw clenched, the familiar sting of those words landing harder than they should have. I wanted to believe her. I really fucking did. But the truth sat heavy between us, thick and suffocating, impossible to ignore.

I dragged a hand down my face, exhaustion settling deep in my bones. "If you loved me," I said, voice steady but worn, "you wouldn't have cheated. You wouldn't have fucking thrown us away like this."

Her eyes shimmered, and she reached across the table for my hand, but I pulled away, the betrayal still sharp, still raw.

"I've spent weeks trying to fix this—trying to make us work," I continued, shaking my head. "We've been going back and forth with the same bullshit, over and over. Do you know how exhausting that is?" I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. "Even after football season ended, I made time for you. I did everything I could to keep us together. And what did you do?"

Her breath hitched, and for a second, I thought I saw regret flash across her face. "Eli... I didn't want to lose you." Her voice cracked, low and desperate. "It was a mistake—just one mistake. I'll do anything to make it right."

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "One mistake? You cheated on me. Twice. You think saying 'I love you' is some magic fix?" I looked her in the eye, hoping she could feel even a fraction of the hurt she'd caused. "I fought for us—for you—even when your parents told me I wasn't good enough. I stood by you, defended us, because I believed we had something worth fighting for." My voice dropped to a near whisper. "But you threw that away."

She blinked, her tears slipping down her cheeks, but I didn't feel sorry for her. Not anymore.

"I forgave you once," I said quietly. "I wanted to believe we could move past it. I wanted to forgive you again." I swallowed hard, forcing the words out even though they felt like splinters in my throat. "But every time I wasn't with you, you twisted it around—made it seem like I was the one slipping away. You blamed me for spending time with friends, for not being there every second. And the whole time, you were the one breaking us."

The silence between us stretched too long, every unsaid word hanging heavy in the air.

Her lip trembled. "Eli, please... I—"

I raised a hand, cutting her off. "Don't. Just... don't." I leaned back, the chair creaking beneath me as I exhaled slowly. "I can't keep doing this. I'm done."

The finality in my voice startled her. It startled me, too. But I knew it was the only way. There was nothing left to salvage between us.

She opened her mouth—probably to beg, to promise, to plead—but I didn't stick around to hear it. I pushed back my chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor, and stood.

"Take care of yourself," I muttered, grabbing my jacket from the back of the chair.

Her tears blurred in the dim café light, but I didn't let them stop me. I had nothing left to give her.

The bell over the door jingled as I stepped outside, the cool night air biting at my skin. I shoved my hands deep into my jacket pockets, my breath puffing in short bursts.

Freedom. That's what this was supposed to feel like, right? But it tasted bitter, like cold coffee left too long on the table—something I used to enjoy, now soured.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it. I needed a minute to breathe, to figure out who the hell I was without her.

I stood there on the empty sidewalk, staring down the dark street as if it held some kind of answer. Spoiler alert: it didn't.

Sometimes, letting go isn't the hard part. It's figuring out what comes next.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders back and heading toward the park, where the world felt a little quieter, a little less heavy. The ache in my chest followed me, but I let it. That was the thing about pain—it didn't just disappear. It lingered, waiting for you to learn how to carry it.

I sat slouched on a bench at the bus stop, elbows on my knees, hands laced together. The ache in my chest was unbearable—an ugly weight I couldn't shake, no matter how many miles I walked. The betrayal, the breakup, the exhaustion... it churned inside me like a storm with no way out.

I didn't even know why I was sitting here. I wasn't waiting for a bus. Hell, I wasn't even waiting for anything. Just trying to get my head straight and failing miserably.

Footsteps scuffed against the sidewalk. I ignored them at first—until they stopped right in front of me.

"Let me guess," a soft, teasing voice interrupted my thoughts. "Girl trouble?"

I glanced up, and there she was—standing there like she belonged in the night. Dark clothes, an oversized hoodie, jeans that had seen better days. There was something about her—something sharp lurking beneath the innocent look. Soft features, sure, but her smirk was a dead giveaway that she wasn't here to play nice.

"Do I know you?" I asked, already annoyed.

She smiled—sweet and wide, but the kind of sweet that made you feel like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. "Not yet," she said lightly, sliding her hands into her hoodie pockets.

"Right." I scoffed, running a hand through my hair. "And you just decided to make my shitty night your business?"

"Looked like you needed the company," she said with a shrug, tilting her head as if sizing me up. "And maybe I like shitty nights."

I narrowed my eyes. "You don't look like someone who enjoys misery."

Her grin widened, flashing just a hint of something wicked. "Looks can be deceiving."

She sat down on the bench beside me—close, but not too close—and crossed her legs like she had all the time in the world.

"You're awfully cocky for someone who just walked into a stranger's bad mood," I muttered, shooting her a sideways glance.

"And you're awfully moody for someone who hasn't told me to leave yet."

Touché.

Her smirk deepened, like she knew she was winning whatever game this was. "So," she said, tapping her fingers on the armrest of the bench, "what'd she do? Cheat? Lie? Or just get bored?"

I stared at her, caught between irritation and curiosity. "You always pry into other people's lives?"

"Only the interesting ones." She leaned back, completely unbothered. "And you? You scream heartbreak."

I shook my head, chuckling dryly. "You're something else, you know that?"

She just grinned, like that was the exact reaction she was going for. "You have no idea."

The banter between us should've irritated me—and maybe it did—but it was also... distracting. A welcome distraction, if I was being honest.

"What's your deal?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "You seriously just walk around picking fights with random guys at bus stops?"

She shrugged again, a mischievous gleam flickering in her gaze. "Maybe. Or maybe you looked like someone who needed to get out of his head."

"And you think sitting here annoying me helps?"

"Absolutely."

I huffed a laugh despite myself, shaking my head. She was relentless—and strangely entertaining.

She stood abruptly, brushing off her jeans. "Come on, hotshot."

I blinked, arching a brow. "Hotshot? Real original."

She shrugged, her smirk deepening like she'd already won something. "It fits. You've got that jock energy—kind of hard to miss."

"Yeah?" I stood slowly, sliding my hands into my pockets, matching her easy stance. "And what's your vibe, exactly?"

Her smile curled, sharp and deliberate, like she was holding all the cards. "The kind that doesn't waste time waiting for buses—or people."

She started walking down the street, glancing over her shoulder just once, her expression challenging. "There's a hotel a few blocks from here. It's warm. Better than sitting out here feeling sorry for yourself."

I should've said no. I knew better—everything about her screamed trouble, the kind you can't shake once you've let it in. But maybe that's what drew me in.

I was already worn down, exhausted from the breakup with my ex. Spent the whole damn day arguing with her over the phone, only to leave the cafe earlier feeling more drained than before. That relationship had left me feeling hollow, clinging to something that was long gone. I'd held on too long to someone who didn't care, thinking forever meant something.

And now here I was, standing in front of someone who oozed unpredictability. Maybe that's what I needed—something reckless, something different, even if it meant diving headfirst into chaos. For once, I didn't want to do the right thing. I was tired of playing it safe, tired of holding onto someone who let me go a long time ago.

Trouble never looked so tempting.

"So what's in it for you?" I asked, falling into step beside her.

She gave a lazy shrug, like she didn't care one way or the other. "Entertainment. What else?"

"Of course." I chuckled under my breath, still wary, but not enough to walk away.

"Coming or not, hotshot?" she asked, throwing me another glance over her shoulder.

I hesitated for half a second. Then I followed her, ignoring the little voice in my head telling me this was a bad idea.

Because right now? Bad ideas felt better than no ideas.

<>

The hotel room was cloaked in shadows, thick curtains drawn tight, shutting out the faint glow of early morning. The air inside was still, carrying the faint scent of cheap linen and lingering perfume. I lay sprawled across the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath my weight, one arm draped behind my head. My muscles ached, heavy with exhaustion, but my mind buzzed—restless, tangled in thoughts I couldn't quite chase away. The night had been reckless, chaotic, but oddly, I didn't feel a shred of regret.

Beside me, the sheets rustled as she shifted, the soft fabric sliding against skin. She stretched languidly, arms arching over her head, her movements slow and deliberate, like someone savoring the quiet aftermath. Her dark hair tumbled messily over her shoulders, catching faint hints of moonlight sneaking through the cracks in the curtains. She looked completely at ease, untouched by the weight sitting in my chest.

The bed creaked as she sat up, brushing her hair away from her face with a lazy swipe, her bare shoulder brushing against mine briefly—a brief spark of warmth in the cool room. She gave a contented sigh, as if the world beyond those thick curtains didn't exist. And in that moment, watching her move with such careless grace, I felt the strange pull of something I didn't expect—something dangerous and addictive.

"You always brood this hard after hooking up, linebacker?" Her voice cut through the silence, teasing and sharp, like she could sense the wheels turning in my head.

I gave a dry laugh. "You always pry into strangers' thoughts, or am I just special?"

She shot me a sly grin, pulling the hotel sheet lazily over her lap. "Depends. You're definitely overthinking it, though."

"And you're not thinking at all," I muttered under my breath.

Her smirk deepened, amused by my frustration. "Thinking's overrated. I'm more of a doer."

I shook my head, biting back a laugh. "Yeah, I noticed."

Her eyes gleamed with amusement, but beneath that spark lay something shadowed, a guarded edge she kept carefully tucked away, like a secret she had no intention of sharing. The dim light filtering through the curtains caught the faint sheen in her gaze, and for a second, it felt heavier than her teasing grin let on—a flicker of something raw and buried deep.

The scent of her lingered in the air, entwined with the sharp, floral notes of her perfume—faint but intoxicating, like the ghost of a kiss that refused to fade. Her skin, still carrying the warmth of the night, grazed mine as she shifted beside me. Every movement was fluid and deliberate, as if she owned the space between us, unbothered by the fleeting intimacy we'd shared. There was an effortless confidence in the way she moved—a quiet assurance that left an imprint, subtle but impossible to ignore.

Not that I cared to dig into whatever storm she was hiding. We were strangers, after all. Strangers who'd collided for a brief, reckless moment—nothing more, nothing less. Just a tangle of bodies, heat, and fleeting escape.

"So, what's your deal?" I asked, leaning back on my elbows, a smirk playing at the edges of my mouth. "You some kind of siren? Lure guys in just to drag them into hotel rooms?"

For the briefest moment, something sharp flickered in her eyes—something that told me she wasn't the type to be easily read. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by an exaggerated roll of her eyes and a grin teasing at the corner of her mouth.

"What can I say?" she murmured, the grin spreading just enough to hint at trouble. "I've got a thing for bad decisions."

"That supposed to make me feel better?" I shot back.

"Take it however you want, linebacker," she said, unbothered. "Not my job to make you feel better."

Her words stung more than I wanted to admit, but there was no point in arguing with her. I could already tell she wasn't the type to care.

"You're trouble," I said, half-teasing, half-serious.

She arched an eyebrow, her grin sharpening. "And you love it."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "You don't know a thing about me."

"Don't need to," she said, leaning closer. "People are predictable. Even the smart ones."

"That so?" I asked, my voice laced with skepticism.

She shrugged, brushing off the weight of her own statement. "It's a game. You learn the rules, you win. Simple."

"And what happens if you lose?" I challenged.

Her smile didn't falter, but her eyes darkened, just for a second. "I don't lose."

The way she said it—so certain, so final—it was like she had already made peace with whatever demons chased her. Not that she'd tell me what they were. She was the type to keep things buried deep.

"Must be exhausting," I muttered.

Her grin widened, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Surviving's exhausting. But it's all I know."

I stared at her for a moment, trying to figure her out, but she gave nothing away. Just a girl with a sharp tongue and a wicked grin, carrying secrets she had no intention of sharing.

"And what do you know about surviving, hotshot?" she asked, her voice dropping to a low murmur. "Bet you've had it easy."

I scoffed, leaning closer. "You have no idea."

For a second, something flickered between us—something unspoken, sharp, and dangerous. But just as quickly, she pulled back, slipping out of bed with the same effortless grace she carried all night.

"Well," she said, brushing her hair out of her face. "This has been fun."

"Fun," I echoed, my tone dry. "Sure, let's call it that."

She threw me a look over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "What, expecting more?"

I shrugged, biting back a grin. "Nah. I know better than that."

She grinned, and for the briefest moment, I saw something real beneath her facade. But it was gone as quickly as it came, hidden behind that same wicked smirk.

"You're not bad, hotshot," she said, pulling on her jacket. "Might even be worth keeping around."

"Yeah?" I asked, half-skeptical, half-intrigued. "For what, exactly?"

She winked, heading for the door. "Guess you'll have to stick around to find out."

And just like that, she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I let out a slow breath, raking a hand through my hair. This was supposed to be a one-time thing. Something to take my mind off the shitstorm my life had become. But now... now I wasn't so sure.

She was trouble—no doubt about that. The kind of trouble I should stay far away from.

But something about her pulled at me, like a challenge I couldn't resist.

And God help me, I think I wanted to see where it would go.