S A R A H

The air is crisp, the faint scent of spices and fresh produce filling the bustling market. Leelo drags me along, his chatter barely registering as I glance around, taking in the vibrant stalls and the hum of life. He insisted on coming here instead of ordering groceries online.

"A change of scenery," he had said.

Honestly, I needed it.

I clutch the small shopping list in my hand as Leelo stops to chat with a vendor about some exotic fruit. My mind keeps drifting, replaying the events of last night with Noah.

His words, his touch, it's all so confusing. I shake my head, trying to focus.

Leelo finishes his conversation and turns to me, grinning. "Alright, you can handle the rest, right? I'll wait in the car. Take your time."

Before I can protest, he's gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the market. I sigh, adjusting the strap of my bag. This isn't so bad. I can manage this.

I move from stall to stall, picking up vegetables and spices. The routine feels grounding, but it doesn't stop my thoughts from wandering. I think about Noah again, the way he looked at me, the softness in his voice when he told me to eat. The memory stirs something in me, something I don't want to name.

Then, I see him.

Ryan.

He's standing near a stall at the far end of the market, his tall frame impossible to miss. He's scanning the area, looking as serious as ever. His eyes lock onto mine, and he starts walking toward me.

"Sarah," he says, his voice steady but with a hint of concern. "What are you doing here alone?"

"I'm not alone," I reply, holding up the shopping bag. "Leelo's waiting in the car."

He glances around, his jaw tightening slightly. "This place isn't exactly safe for you."

I frown. "Ryan, it's a market. Not a war zone."

He doesn't look convinced but lets it go. "What's going on? You look... distracted."

I hesitate. Should I tell him? It's not like I have anyone else to talk to about this, and Ryan has always been protective of me.

Maybe too protective.

"It's nothing," I say at first, but his piercing gaze makes it impossible to hide. I sigh, shifting uncomfortably. "It's about Noah."

His eyes narrow slightly. "What about him?"

I bite my lip, feeling suddenly nervous. "Last night... he-he touched my waist. It wasn't anything major, but it felt... different. And the way he looked at me, Ryan, it's like-"

"Stop."

His tone is firm, cutting me off. I look up at him, startled.

"Sarah," he says, his voice softer now, "you're working for him. That's it. You're not supposed to get emotionally involved. Don't let him get into your head."

"I'm not emotionally involved. I'm just... confused."

He steps closer, his expression hardening. "Noah isn't the type of guy you should let your guard down around. You've seen how he treats people. You're better than that."

I bristle at his words, but before I can snap back, he sighs, "I'm sorry," he says, his tone softer. "I didn't mean to sound harsh. I just... I don't want to see you hurt."

The sincerity in his voice disarms me. I nod, relaxing slightly. "Thanks, Ryan. But I can handle myself."

He smiles faintly, the tension between us easing. "I know you can. You've always been strong."

We continue walking through the market, our conversation shifting to lighter topics. He helps me pick out the remaining items on the list, his presence oddly comforting.

The market is alive with activity, vendors shouting out their prices, customers haggling, and the faint scent of fresh spices lingering in the air. I'm busy trying to pick the best tomatoes when Ryan leans casually beside me.

"Tomatoes, huh? Are you planning on cooking something edible for once?" he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.

I glare at him, trying to suppress a smile. "Excuse me, my cooking isn't that bad."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. I shove him lightly, laughing despite myself. "For your information, Leelo said my pasta was amazing."

"Leelo has no taste," he replies smoothly, grabbing a tomato and tossing it in the air before catching it.

I snatch it back from him, trying to stay focused. "Why are you even here, Ryan? Don't you have better things to do than annoy me?"

"Not really," he says, flashing me a grin that's both infuriating and oddly charming. "Besides, someone has to make sure you don't get scammed into buying rotten vegetables."

Before I can retort, a group of girls passes by, giggling and whispering loudly enough for us to hear.

"Did you see him? He's so tall!" one of them says.

"And his jawline... God, he's gorgeous," another chimes in, not even bothering to lower her voice.

I glance at Ryan, who seems completely unfazed, his attention still on the tomatoes.

"Well, would you look at that," I say, feigning surprise. "The Ryan fan club is in attendance."

He smirks, finally turning to look at me. "Jealous, are we?"

I scoff, grabbing a handful of cilantro. "Of what? A bunch of girls who don't even know you are scared of grasshoppers?"

His smirk widens. "For the record, I'm not scared. Just a little, don't know."

As we continue shopping, Ryan's teasing doesn't let up. Every time I try to grab something, he's there with a comment.

"You're really getting that brand of oil?"

This boy!

"Careful, Sarah. That thing might just be too advanced for your cooking skills."

By the time we reach the spice section, I'm ready to throw a bag of flour at him.

"Ryan," I say, exasperated, "you're not helping."

"Sure I am," he replies, leaning closer. "I'm keeping you entertained."

I give him a flat look, but before I can respond, our hands brush as we both reach for the same spice jar.

For a moment, neither of us moves. His eyes meet mine, and something in his expression softens.

"Here," he says, stepping back and handing me the jar.

"Thanks," I mumble.

We move on, and as we pass another group of girls, one of them blatantly checks him out. I can't help myself.

"You know," I say, my tone teasing, "you could make a fortune just standing here and letting girls admire you. Maybe you should quit your job."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "And what would I do with all that attention?"

I shrug, pretending to think. "Maybe finally admit you're not as humble as you pretend to be?"

He smirks, nudging me lightly.

By the time we finish shopping, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. It's rare to see Ryan this relaxed, and I have to admit, it's nice. As we walk back to the car, he carries most of the bags, insisting that I shouldn't "overexert myself."

When we reach the car, Leelo is leaning against the door, scrolling through his phone. He looks up as we approach, raising an eyebrow.

"Finally. I thought you got lost or something."

"Just making sure Sarah didn't burn the market down," Ryan says, setting the bags in the trunk.

I roll my eyes, sliding into the passenger seat. Leelo and Ryan share a warm hug before departing.

The ride home is quiet, but my mind keeps replaying the day. Ryan's teasing and his protectiveness.

When we get home, I help Leelo unpack the groceries, trying to push the thoughts away. But one thing is clear. Ryan may annoy me to no end, but he's always there when it matters.

Leelo stretches as he places the last of the groceries on the counter. He says, "Call me if you need anything." And leaves without looking back, rushing somewhere.

I exhale and start pulling out the fresh vegetables Ryan and I picked.
The sound of footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. I turn to see Noah leaning against the doorframe, his dark hair slightly messy and his hands tucked into his pockets.

"You look... happy," he says, his tone casual but with a slight edge I can't quite place.

I blink, surprised by his observation. "Oh. I guess I had a good time at the market."

"Leelo must've been really entertaining," he says, stepping into the kitchen.

I shake my head, smiling faintly. "Actually, Ryan came along. He helped me pick out some things."

At the mention of Ryan's name, Noah's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He moves to the counter, his fingers drumming against the surface. "Ryan, huh?"

I nod, turning back to the groceries to avoid his gaze. "Yeah, he was... helpful. Made shopping a little more fun."

"Fun," Noah repeats, his voice dipping lower. "So, what? He cracks a few jokes, and suddenly you're all smiles?"

I frown, turning to face him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs, his expression unreadable. "Nothing. Just didn't know you two were so close."

I say firmly, "Ryan's just... nice sometimes. That's all."

Noah lets out a short laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Nice. Right."

"What's your problem?" I ask, crossing my arms.

I glare at him, feeling my temper rise. "Why do you care, Noah? Last I checked, I'm just your maid. What I do outside of work is none of your business."

He flinches at my words but recovers quickly, his eyes narrowing. "Maybe it's because I know how guys like Ryan think. He's not helping you out of the goodness of his heart."

I whirl around to face him, my hands clenched into fists. "Ryan respects me, Noah. He doesn't treat me like some... some obligation or a burden. Unlike you."

His expression shifts, the fire in his eyes dimming for a moment. "Sarah..."

"What?" I snap, crossing my arms again.

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair. "You're right. I've been... unfair. But Ryan's not-"

"He's not what?" I interrupt, cutting him off. "You don't know him, Noah. And even if you did, it doesn't matter. We're just friends. Just like you and I are just... boss and maid."

Something flickers in his eyes at my words, but he quickly hides it behind a forced smirk. "Boss and maid," he repeats, leaning back against the counter. "Right. Glad we're on the same page."

The tension in the room is suffocating, and I turn away, pretending to busy myself with the groceries. He sighs before pushing off the counter and heading toward the living room.

"Sarah," he calls.

I don't turn around. "What?"

"Just... don't let Ryan get too close," he says, his tone softer but still carrying a trace of something.

I don't respond, and he walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the heavy weight of his words.