Chapter 8
Jess
By the time I got to school the next morning, I could feel Etan everywhere.
He was in the quick glances people gave me in the hallway.
In the way the reflections in trophy cases seemed to shimmer a half-second too long.
Even in the faint hum under the cafeteria chatter, like someone whispering my name just out of earshot.
Etan had been in the mirrors again, I could tell. Which meant he’d seen me, heard me, maybe even read the pages of my open notebook when I wasn’t looking.
If there was one thing I wasn’t going to do, it was go on a date with a mirror creature who might be slowly erasing my crush from existence.
Which is exactly why, ten minutes after school ended, I was standing on the Hallowell Bay boardwalk with Etan.
In my defence, he’d asked in front of half the cafeteria and somehow made, ‘just a walk’ sound like a dare. Also, Bianca had texted me ‘do it for research’ in all caps about seven times.
The boardwalk was already buzzing with summer tourists. Kids were running for the carousel, and the smell of fried dough and saltwater taffy curled through the air. Etan walked beside me, hands in his hoodie pocket, glancing around like he was cataloguing every sensation.
“You come here a lot?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. “If by a lot you mean once every two years, when I forget how overpriced everything is.”
He laughed, and it was so real, so easy, that I almost forgot why I was here.
Then, the popcorn machine outside the snack stand exploded. Not in a dangerous way. in a raining buttery kernels over the entire sidewalk way. Etan looked almost innocent.
“What?” he said. “I like popcorn.”
We wandered past the arcade, where the lights flickered in time with his steps, and a busker’s guitar shifted mid-song into something slow and romantic without him touching the strings. Every little trick seemed designed to show me what Etan could do, and how much fun it was.
We passed another arcade, and a claw machine lit up as we walked by. The claw jerked to life on its own, scooping up a lopsided plush octopus and dropping it into the prize slot without anyone touching the controls.
“For you,” Etan said, handing it over like it was the most natural thing in the world.
A gull wheeled overhead, then froze mid-flight, wings outstretched, as if someone had pressed pause on reality. I stared, wide-eyed, until it beat its wings again and soared away.
Every step with him felt like stepping into a version of Hallowell Bay where the universe bent itself to please me. That was the problem—part of me wanted to see just how far he’d go.
“You’re dangerous,” I muttered.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
We’d been weaving through the crowd, Etan effortlessly charming every vendor we passed, when he steered me into a narrow space between the saltwater taffy stand and the back wall of the old carousel.
The music was loud there, muffled by the thick wooden panels, but the crowd noise faded.
It was just the two of us in the strip of shadow.
Before I could step out, he moved, one hand braced beside my head, the other still holding the ridiculous plush octopus he’d ‘won’ for me.
“Why do you keep fighting this?” His voice was low, steady, but not quite a question.
My spine hit the wall, the wood warm from the afternoon sun seeping through my shirt. All at once, I was aware of everything; his heat soaking into me, the faint ocean scent clinging to his shirt, the way his eyes tracked mine without blinking.
My chest rose on a sharp inhale, and before I even realized it, my back arched slightly. I was leaning toward him instead of away.
“You don’t think I’m like Nate,” he said, closing the gap until his breath brushed my cheek. “You’re wrong. I have his memories... his voice, his touch. Though I know what you’d like, how to make you lose yourself to pleasure, he doesn’t have a clue.”
My mind threw up all the reasons to walk away—Nate’s real smile, the way his sketchbook pages curled at the edges, the soft, careful way he’d touched me under the ticket table.
But the reasons tangled with the warmth in my chest, the way his breath hitched when I didn’t move.
A single inch, maybe less, and I could find out exactly how his promise tasted.
My fingers twitched against the wall, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
The warmth radiating from Etan seeped through the thin barrier of my shirt, curling down my spine like it belonged there. His scent was the same as Nate’s, clean and a little like cedar, but there was something sharper underneath, something that made my pulse skip and my skin prickle in caution.
The warning didn’t stop my knees from going weak, or my breath from catching when his gaze dipped to my mouth. Every nerve felt tuned to him, straining toward that next inch, the one that would erase the space between us.
I told myself to step sideways, to break eye contact, to do anything but lean in and my toes still curled inside my boots, ready to bridge the gap. I hated that part of me, the part that wanted to see if his promise was real, even if it meant betraying the boy I actually wanted.
Heat pooled low in my stomach, and my fingers curled as if bracing for impact.
God, I hated that my body reacted before my brain could shut it down.
For a second, one dangerous, stupid second, I could almost believe I wanted him.
Almost.
I twisted sideways under his arm so fast the plush octopus tumbled to the boardwalk between us. “Not gonna happen,” I said, but my voice was tighter than I wanted. My heartbeat still hadn’t slowed by the time I reached the pier lights.
“I don’t want to go back,” he said suddenly.
I blinked. “To the Mirror Realm?”
He nodded. “Over there, nothing’s real. Nothing feels. Out here…” He sighed. "Everything’s brighter. Louder. I can’t get enough of it.” His eyes stayed on mine as he said it, like the thing he couldn’t get enough of was standing right in front of him.
“That’s not your life,” I said. “It’s Nate’s.”
Something flickered in his expression. Was it guilt? Amusement? Maybe both. “And yet… you’re here with me, not him.”
Ouch.
“I’m here because I’m trying to figure out how to send you back,” I said, forcing my voice steady.
He smiled faintly. “Even if I told you I’m falling for you?”
My pulse jumped and I licked my dry lips. I’d been waiting for years for Nate to say those words to me, but this wasn’t Nate, just a twisted version of him.
“Then I’d say you’re a really good liar.”
For a second, something flickered in his face. Not silver, not smugness, just tired, like he’d been running from something for a long time. Then, it was gone, replaced by that perfect grin.
We walked the rest of the boardwalk in silence, the carnival lights painting him in colors I couldn’t trust. Yet, when we stopped at the end railing, the ocean spread out in front of us, deep and endless, and for just a heartbeat I wanted to see what he saw, even if it meant standing in the dark beside him.