Page 10 of Faking with Three

Ethan snorts. “You’re kidding. The day I make someone Venmo me for a coffee is the day I’ve truly lost my soul.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’ve clearly been away from city life for too long.”

“Austin sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It has its moments,” I admit as we head out the door. The small bell above it jingles as we step outside, the crisp air hitting my face, waking me up a bit.

The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the town. It’s still as charming as I remember—brick buildings with sun-faded signs, small businesses with hand-painted logos, and a quiet buzz that feels worlds apart from the chaos of Austin. There’s the little bookstore where I used to spend hours browsing romance novels, the park with its worn swingset that probably still has my initials carved into the bench, and the local bakery that, if I’m not mistaken, is still blasting that same old 80s playlist.

“It hasn’t changed much, has it?” I say, almost to myself.

Ethan glances at me, then back at the street. “Nope. Same old place. Though we’ve lost a few good spots. The arcade is gone—replaced by some weird holistic wellness shop.”

“So tell me more about the channel. Sounds like you guys started it on a whim, and it just took off?” I ask, glancing over at him.

He makes a face. “Took off might be an overstatement. I mean you’ve seen the views on the recent videos.”

I don’t want him to feel bad so I don’t reply.

We reach our building, and I swipe my keycard, holding the door open for him. “Maybe you just need to spice things up,” I say, stepping into the lobby. It’s quiet, with that familiar scent of lemon cleaner and carpet freshener. “And before you say it, no, I don’t mean me.”

“Only if you want to scare off the rest of your subscribers,” I shoot back, grinning as we step into the elevator.

As the doors close, I press the button for the fifth floor. “I can’t believe we’re going to be neighbors.”

“For a while, yes,” I say. I can’t stop myself from smiling before realizing what I’m doing.

The elevator dings, and we step out together. I’m about to say goodbye when a sharp, acrid smell hits my nose. It smells like… burning.

I wrinkle my nose, glancing around. “What is that smell? Is something on fire?”

Ethan’s eyes go wide, and his casual demeanor evaporates. “Oh, shit.”

Before I can ask what’s going on, he’s bolting down the hall, heading straight for a door that’s partially open. Smoke is curling out of the gap.

I jog after him, more curious than worried. “Ethan, what the hell did you do?”

He doesn’t answer, just flings open the door and rushes inside. I follow, because clearly, I have no sense of self-preservation.

The apartment is filled with a thin, gray haze inside. I spot a skillet on the stove, spitting smoke into the air. Ethan lunges for it, grabs a dishtowel, and wafts it wildly to clear the smoke.

“Goddamn it,” he mutters, frantically turning off the burner. “I forgot I put oil on to heat up.”

I burst out laughing. “You were making something before you went out for a run? Who does that?”

He turns, looking sheepish, a smudge of soot on his cheek. “Clearly, I do. And clearly, I’m an idiot.”

“Clearly,” I say, grinning as I wave the smoke away from my face. “Want me to call the fire department, or should I just handle this myself?”

Ethan shoots me a look, half embarrassed, half amused. “Hey, if you’ve got a fire extinguisher handy, be my guest.”

I glance around, noticing the haphazard state of his apartment—an acoustic guitar propped against the wall, a pileof recording equipment in the corner, and, of course, the smoke alarm now blaring above us.

Ethan leaps up to silence it, and I can’t help but laugh. He’s a complete mess, but it’s… kind of endearing.

“Welcome back to Cedar Hill,” he says, grinning down at me from where he’s perched on a chair, fanning the air. “It’s never boring here.”

Ethan hops down from the chair, waving away the last of the smoke with a sheepish grin. "So, I guess I’m not the master chef I imagined. But hey, at least I made an impression, right?"

---