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Chapter Three: The Dare
The bell over the door gave a faint chime as Maya slipped into the bookstore. The space was narrow, lined floor to ceiling with shelves that groaned under the weight of too many stories. Dust swirled in the air, lit gold by the slanting sunlight bleeding through tall windows. It smelled faintly of ink, rain-damp paper, and the sweet bite of coffee from the café corner tucked at the back.
This was her safe place.
Her escape when the dorms felt suffocating or the city pressed too tightly around her. She'd never had to share it before.
Until now.
Because leaning against the magazine rack as if he owned the shadows was him. Ezra. The rooftop phantom. Cigarette replaced with a book he clearly wasn't reading. His dark sweater clung to his frame, and his posture screamed effortless arrogance.
And sprawled in the leather chair beside him, legs swinging, was Rhea—hair catching sunlight like fire, flipping through a battered poetry collection as if she belonged to every page.
Maya froze halfway down the aisle, a paperback still clutched in her hand. She thought, absurdly, about bolting. But Rhea's head lifted like she had radar tuned specifically to Maya, and her lips curved into that familiar crooked smile.
"Well, if it isn't Rooftop Stranger," Rhea said, snapping the book shut with one hand.
Ezra's gaze followed, slow, deliberate. When his eyes locked on Maya, her stomach knotted.
"So you do exist outside rooftops," he drawled. His voice carried smoke even without the cigarette.
Heat rushed up Maya's neck. She hated how he looked at her—like she was some rare insect he'd pinned under glass. She shifted on her feet, suddenly aware of how ordinary she must look: wrinkled T-shirt, scuffed sneakers, hair pulled into a messy bun that had lost the fight hours ago.
Rhea rose from the chair and gestured her closer. "Come on. Don't lurk in the aisle. You're officially part of the rooftop club now."
Maya's instinct screamed to retreat, but her feet betrayed her, dragging her forward. Ezra didn't move, didn't blink, just tracked her approach with eyes too sharp to ignore.
When she reached them, he tilted his head. "She doesn't look like she belongs."
Maya stiffened. "Excuse me?"
"That's not an insult," Ezra said, though the corner of his mouth twitched like it almost was. "It's an observation."
Rhea scoffed, stepping closer to Maya, her shoulder brushing hers in solidarity. "Ignore him. He says that about everyone."
Ezra's eyes never left Maya. "Not everyone. Just her. She's… careful. Like she's waiting for permission to exist."
The words sliced sharper than she expected. Her cheeks burned hot. "And what's wrong with being careful?"
His lips curved into that half-smirk. "Nothing. Unless you want to live."
The air between them tightened, full of challenge.
Rhea gave an exaggerated groan. "God, you're insufferable. Can you stop playing the broody philosopher for five minutes?" She turned to Maya, her grin returning like sunlight breaking clouds. "Don't let him get to you. He's all smoke and mirrors. Trust me, I've known him long enough to be bored."
Ezra's smirk sharpened. "Then prove it."
Maya blinked. "Prove… what?"
"That you're not as fragile as you look." His eyes gleamed, something like amusement—or warning—hidden in them. "Come with us tonight."
"Tonight?" Her voice came out higher than she meant.
"Underground show downtown," Rhea explained, tucking the poetry book back on the shelf. "Music, neon, too many bodies crammed in one place. Ezra calls it noise. I call it life."
Maya's pulse skittered. She'd never been to anything like that. Crowds made her chest tighten. She could already picture herself pressed against a wall, out of place, too quiet, too invisible.
"I don't think—" she began.
"Exactly." Ezra cut in. "You don't think. You just show up. Or stay safe in your little bubble." His voice lowered. "But bubbles always burst."
Her jaw tightened. The part of her that always played small wanted to retreat, to disappear. But another part—the part that had stayed on that rooftop longer than she should have just to feel Rhea's gaze on her—was tired of retreating.
Rhea leaned closer, eyes glinting. "Don't listen to his drama. Listen to me. It'll be fun. Loud, messy, maybe a little dangerous." Her voice softened. "But I'll be there."
The words sank into Maya like heat. Against her better judgment, against every instinct honed to stay invisible, she found herself whispering:
"Okay."
Ezra leaned back against the rack, satisfied. Rhea's grin widened like victory.
And Maya realized she'd just agreed to step into their world—smoke and fire both.
A world that might burn her.