17. Chapter Seventeen - Shifting Weight #2
Before I could respond, Sienna cut in, her voice cool and flat. “If you’re following him, you should follow me too.”
“Sure,” I said easily, already pulling my phone back out and tapping through the app. I followed them both, even though I could feel her eyes lingering on me.
We settled beneath a large oak tree, its branches shifting slowly overhead.
The grass beneath us sparkled faintly with leftover dew while ducks drifted lazily across the lake, some venturing closer to shore while others stayed farther out.
The park buzzed with soft conversation, laughter, and footsteps crunching along the paths.
I let it all sink in: the sounds, the light, the easy rhythm of everything wrapping around me like a soft blanket.
“Oi, that’s mental,” Oliver said, scrolling through my page. “You’re proper close to a million followers?”
I leaned back on my elbows, letting the cool air settle against my skin as a genuine smile slipped free. The sky above us stretched bright and clear, thin clouds barely moving overhead.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It’s been a journey.”
Sienna leaned over his shoulder, her eyes widening.
“Wait, did you just do a backflip off a wall? That’s bollocks.”
British people somehow managed to make everything sound aggressive.
I laughed, my wrists aching in sympathy just thinking about it.
“Nearly sprained my wrist in the process, but hey, silver lining, I can now backflip off walls. Not a bad party trick.”
Oliver had gone pink, his eyes darting everywhere while he kept scrolling.
“Erm, these are a bit… yeah, a bit saucy, aren’t they?” he said, his voice pitching awkwardly high.
Which was apparently polite British code for thirst trap. He didn’t stop scrolling, though, which somehow made it funnier. Sienna rolled her eyes and snatched the phone from his hand.
“Stop before you make her uncomfortable,” she snapped, glancing at me in a way I couldn’t quite read. Protective, maybe. Judgmental? It was hard to tell with her.
I smiled at her anyway, half amused and half grateful, feeling the strange tension threading between the three of us, where every shared moment seemed to pull things tighter together.
People drifted steadily around us beneath the sun.
Parents pushed strollers while sleepy toddlers clutched juice boxes, couples wandered hand in hand along the paths, and dogs of every size trotted proudly beside their owners.
Just as Sienna promised, the park was full of adorable babies and even sweeter dogs, and every time a little puppy wandered past, warmth curled quietly through my chest.
“Ooh, look at that one,” I said without shame, instantly locking onto a tiny corgi in a striped sweater strutting proudly across the grass. “You weren’t lying about the dogs. Aw, I love animals.”
I smiled, tucking my windblown hair behind my ear as I glanced between them.
Oliver tugged at the hem of his hoodie and shot me a sideways look. “Uh, random question, Ira… do you drive?”
I blinked, confused by the sudden switch.
“Yeah. I mean, I did. Back in the U.S.” My voice dipped slightly before I added, “Had to leave my car behind, though. So… no car right now. What about you?”
There was a pause. Just long enough to feel suspicious.
Oliver froze like a deer in headlights, and that was all Sienna needed. Her lips curled into a slow, smug smirk.
“Blud here has failed his test several times,” she said smoothly, gesturing toward him as though she was presenting evidence.
“Blud?” I repeated, lifting a brow as Oliver’s face turned bright red.
I was collecting British vocabulary like Pokémon cards at this point.
“It’s just what people here call younger guys,” Sienna said casually. “I like it. It suits him. He’s very… blud.”
“I’m literally right here,” Oliver muttered, puffing out his cheeks. “You don’t have to narrate my entire life.”
Sienna rolled her eyes but stood, brushing off her pants and tossing him a look.
“C’mon, Mr. No-License. Let’s move.”
I laughed quietly as I got to my feet and followed them, keeping an easy pace.
Their back-and-forth pulled me in, reminding me so much of siblings I’d known growing up.
Sienna’s sharp edges balanced out Oliver’s over-the-top reactions in a way that felt genuine.
Being the extra didn’t bother me at all when it came with moments like this.
Watching them bicker was weirdly therapeutic.
The rest of the day blurred together in the best way, turning into a loose collage of walking, laughing, and doing absolutely nothing important.
We wandered through small, quirky shops wedged between old buildings, the sort with crooked signs and windows packed with handmade trinkets, novelty mugs, and an almost aggressive amount of scented candles.
At some point, we ducked into a bakery tucked into the corner of the plaza, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.
Inside, the air was warm and thick with the smell of fresh bread and sugar, and we lingered far too long stuffing ourselves with pastries dusted in powdered sugar and filled with sweet cream until our fingers turned sticky.
After that, Oliver somehow convinced us to stop at a little stall with a claw machine, his eyes lighting up as though he’d uncovered buried treasure. He declared, very seriously, that he wasn’t leaving until he won something.
I crossed my arms and leaned back, fully prepared to watch him waste coins, but against all odds—pure luck or some kind of divine intervention—he actually won.
A tiny octopus plush with oversized button eyes dropped into the chute, and he froze, staring between Sienna and me as though he was about to make the most important decision of his life.
My brows lifted, preemptive panic already kicking in because the last thing I needed was him handing that thing to me and making everything awkward all over again.
Thankfully, he read the room.
With an exaggerated sigh, he handed the plush to Sienna instead, who took it with a barely concealed smirk.
Crisis successfully avoided.
By the time we wandered back toward our blanket, the park had shifted again.
Somewhere near the lakeside path, a local band had set up, and music drifted through the air, easy and unassuming.
They played a mix of indie covers and soft originals, the sort that blended naturally into the afternoon without demanding attention.
A small crowd gathered nearby, sunlight catching on instruments and smiling faces alike.
Something sparked inside me at the sound, and before I could overthink it, I pulled out my phone and opened the app. I propped the camera up and stepped into frame, letting myself move with the music in an unscripted way that felt freeing.
My body caught the rhythm effortlessly, hair lifting in the breeze while my movements stayed loose and fluid against the open sky and stretch of grass. It wasn’t planned or rehearsed. Just a simple freestyle. And for the first time in days, I stopped thinking so hard.
I tagged the location but scheduled the post for later, making sure no one would know I was still there. It was a habit I’d picked up after too many close calls, when the online world flipped from kind to overwhelming in a heartbeat, supportive one second and far too invasive the next.
When I dropped back onto the blanket, my muscles buzzing and skin warm from the sun, I tucked my phone away and stared up at the sky while music drifted softly through the air around us.
For a little while, everything felt easy again.