Chapter Four #2
Honestly, I expected at least one subtle interrogation. Maybe a “sooooo” followed by intense eye contact and a fork clinking against a plate. Instead, I’m getting hugs and normal conversation.
Either they’re incredibly secure women…
Or this is the most well-organized ambush in history.
I straighten slightly in my chair.
If someone pulls out a printed timeline of my existence, I’m leaving.
The ocean is directly in front of us. Waves rolling in steady, predictable lines like even they’ve got their life together.
A dog is running around by the shore, chasing absolutely nothing like it’s on a mission.
A few feet away, two kids are screaming and throwing sand at each other while their parents pretend they don’t see it because no one’s bleeding yet.
A waitress walks over a minute later, blonde hair twisted up in a clip, and an effortless smile like despite how busy this place is, she loves her job.
“Hey, ladies,” she says brightly. “The usual?”
“Hey, Marisol,” Lena says, smiling like this is their weekly board meeting.
Cece lifts her chin dramatically. “Miss us?”
Marisol laughs. “You were just here on Tuesday, Cece.”
“Exactly,” Cece replies, placing her hand over her heart. “Two whole days without us here to elevate the atmosphere.”
Marisol rolls her eyes affectionately and flips open her notepad. “Alright, what are we getting?”
“Salmon salad for me, please,” Lena says. “Oh, and my usual caramel macchiato.”
“Shrimp tacos,” Cece adds. “Extra lime. Like aggressively extra.”
“I’ll have the lobster roll,” Bex says easily. “Same as always.”
Marisol nods and scribbles, then looks at me. “And for you?”
My eyes scan the menu quickly, pretending like I didn’t already clock the burger the second I sat down.
“Umm, I’ll take the burger, medium rare. Fries on the side, and an iced coffee, black, please.”
She nods without judgment. “You got it,” and heads back inside.
The second she’s out of earshot, Cece turns to me slowly
“You do know Seaside is basically a shrine to ocean animals, right?” Cece asks, but she’s grinning like she’s about to judge me for sport.
“I did not,” I admit. “But I don’t like seafood anyway, so this was doomed from the start.”
Lena gasps like I just insulted her entire bloodline. “None of it?”
“None,” I confirm. “Like, literally nothing fishy. At all. If it swims, I’m out.”
Bex laughs softly. “You really did pick the wrong café.”
“Correction,” I say, pointing lightly at the table, “I didn’t pick anything. I just arrived. Big difference. And for the record, I have full faith in their burger. I believe in land animals.”
Cece presses a hand to her chest dramatically. “Ay, Dios mío. We’re over here ordering half the Atlantic and you’re just sitting there like, ‘Yeah, I’ll have the cow, thanks.’”
“Exactly,” I say. “Reliable. Predictable. Doesn’t smell like low tide.”
Lena snorts.
“Okay but not even shrimp?” Cece pushes, leaning in like she’s negotiating a treaty. “Not even with limón, and a little tajín to make it cute?”
“I admire the marketing,” I reply. “Still no.”
She sighs loudly. “Trágico. I should’ve known. You’ve got burger energy.”
“Is that an insult?”
“It’s a diagnosis.”
Bex laughs again, shaking her head. “It’s fine, Echo. We’re not revoking your lunch privileges.”
“Yet,” Cece mutters, eyeing me dramatically like she’s already drafting the paperwork to revoke my seafood privileges.
I lean back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other, smirk tugging at my mouth before I can stop it. I shouldn’t be this comfortable this fast. I walked in here half-expecting side-eyes and subtle interrogation tactics. Instead, I’m getting theatrics over shrimp.
And I’m… kind of into it.
There’s something easy about them. No weird tension or passive-aggressive energy. Just straight-up banter and exaggerated playful judgment over my food choices.
I rest my elbow on the table, chin in my hand. “Look,” I say casually, “if this is my biggest flaw, I feel like I’m doing alright.”
Cece narrows her eyes at me like she’s reassessing. “We’ll see.”
Bex smiles into her drink.
Lena shakes her head. “I can’t believe you hate all seafood.”
“I never said hate,” I correct. “I just don’t trust it.”
Cece laughs. “She doesn’t trust it.”
“I don’t,” I repeat. “It smells suspicious. That’s all I’m saying.”
They laugh again, and this time I don’t feel like I’m the new girl trying to prove something. I feel like I’m just… here. Part of the table. Trading shots back and forth like I’ve done it before.
Which is weird.
Because I don’t remember the last time girl energy felt this light.
I didn’t realize how much I missed it until right now.
Cece studies me for a second like she’s reassessing my entire personality based on my burger order, then nods once.
“Alright, burger girl. We accept you,” she says graciously. “But next time we do this lunch thing? I’m taking you somewhere with flavor. I’m talking the kind of place where my abuela would personally judge you if you didn’t finish your plate.”
“You know,” Lena says dryly, “for someone who just claimed we’re not scary, that sounds a little aggressive.”
“Puta, it’s the truth,” Cece shoots back without missing a beat.
I lift a brow at her, leaning back in my chair with a slow smirk. “Wow. Already planning a second date?”
Cece blinks.
“I mean,” I continue sweetly, “I know I’m hot, but damn, that was fast.”
Her mouth drops open. “Excuse me?”
I shrug innocently. “I’m just saying. You’re already booking me for round two when, from what I hear, poor Revel can’t even get one with you.”
Lena immediately loses it, laughter spilling out of her like she’s been waiting her whole life for someone else to say it.
Cece presses a hand dramatically to her chest. “Ay, qué mala eres,” she says, shaking her head at me. “We just met and you’re already coming for my throat? At brunch? Sin vergüenza too.”
Her eyes are bright though. Amused and challenging.
I shrug one shoulder. “Hey, you started it. I’m just keeping up.”
Cece squints at me like she’s deciding whether to be offended or impressed.
Then she points at me across the table. “Okay. I see you. Little savage.”
“Little?” I say dryly.
Lena snorts again.
Cece leans back in her chair, still eyeing me like she just discovered a new favorite form of entertainment.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “You’re going to fit in just fine.”
“I like you, burger girl,” Cece adds, pointing at me like she’s issuing some kind of official approval. “But I’m watching you.”
“I mean, I’m totally down for a second date. I just had to point out how much easier it was for me to get one. Maybe I should give Revel some pointers.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
Then she breaks into a grin. “Okay. You are definitely a Shaw.”
“Literally,” Lena teases.
Cece flips her off lightly without even looking at her. “Revel thinks persistence is a personality trait.”
“And you secretly love it,” Bex murmurs.
Cece tosses her hair, bangles clinking softly like punctuation. “I tolerate it. There’s a difference. Si él quiere sufrir, that’s on him.”
Lena laughs. “You’re impossible.”
“I have standards,” Cece corrects, completely unbothered. “High ones. You all should try it sometime.”
Before she can launch into a full lecture on her romantic expectations, the waitress comes back balancing plates up her arm like a pro.
She sets everything down one by one—Lena’s salmon, Cece’s shrimp tacos dripping with lime, Bex’s lobster roll perfectly toasted—and finally my burger and fries, the smell of grilled beef and salt cutting through the butter and lemon cloud surrounding the table.
“There you go, ladies,” she says, sliding my iced coffee in front of me.
“Thanks, Marisol,” Bex says easily.
The second the waitress walks away, we all reach for our food like this is routine.
Cece takes one bite of her taco and immediately leans back, eyes closing dramatically. “Okay. Worth it.”
Lena laughs. “You say that every time.”
“Because it’s true every time,” Cece insists, pointing her taco at us like she’s delivering a TED talk. “Don’t act surprised like you didn’t order the exact same thing you order every week.”
I take a bite of my burger and nod once. “Okay. Yeah. I get it now.”
Cece points at me immediately. “See? Burger girl gets it.”
“Don’t drag me into this,” I say around another bite. “I’m just here for the cow.”
Lena snorts.
Cece shakes her head at me, still smiling. “Unbelievable. Comes to a seafood place and orders beef like it’s a personality.”
“Look,” I say, shrugging, “I know my strengths.”
“Your strength,” Cece replies dryly, “is being difficult.”
“Wow,” I say, completely unfazed. “And here I thought we were bonding.”
I grab a fry, dip it in ketchup, and lean back in my chair.
Conversation picks up without effort. They start talking about something small—Reign being late to everything except training, Cece threatening to block Revel for sending her a “good morning,” text at six a.m., Bex rolling her eyes about Talon being on everyone's ass about prepping for the upcoming season.
It’s easy.
No one’s circling back to me like I’m a topic, waiting for me to perform. They’re just… talking. Including me naturally, laughing when I add something, and reacting when I throw in a comment of my own.
For the first time since I got here, my shoulders drop without me forcing them to.
It doesn’t feel like pressure, or like I’m on display.
It feels normal.
Like despite how messy, chaotic and completely unplanned all of this is, somehow I’m sitting exactly where I’m supposed to be. With the sun on my skin, the ocean in the background, and girls I never thought I’d actually talk to, laughing around a table like this is just another Friday.
I take a bite of my burger and glance at them, really look at them, and it hits me.
Somehow, I actually fit here, like I was always meant to. Which is ironic, considering I guess when you unpack all the lies, and my mom leaving here before I was born. Guess I really was kinda meant to be here.
“I expected this to feel like an interrogation,” I admit randomly.