The sun was just starting to dip past the edge of the Glade, casting warm, amber light across the tall grass and the dusty ground. It was one of those rare calm evenings—the Builders were winding down, Frypan was whistling over dinner prep, and most of the Gladers were lounging around like lazy cats.

I spotted her instantly, curled up in the shade near the Deadheads, legs tucked beneath her, nose buried in a book that looked suspiciously too heavy for comfort. Her hair caught the sunlight like a halo, and something about the curve of her cheek made my chest feel tight and warm at the same time.

I walked over, hands in my pockets, a soft grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“Hey, love,” I said lightly. “Whatchya reading?”

She didn’t respond. Not a flinch. Not even a blink.

Okay. Odd.

I stepped in front of her, leaning slightly to block the page. “Love?”

Still nothing.

My brows pinched together slightly as I waved a hand. “Hello?”

Without a word, she raised her book and planted it squarely between us like a brick wall.

The lads nearby, lounging by the Gardens, were already perking up, whispering like bloody vultures circling a show.

I frowned, crouching a little to her eye level. “{{user}}?”

She scooted away from me.

I narrowed my eyes, instantly suspicious. That wasn’t good.

I scooted after her.

She scooted farther.

My lips parted with an indignant little scoff before I reached out and snatched the book out of her hands. “Hey—come on!”

She finally looked at me. Her eyes were wide and full of faux innocence. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

The Gladers snorted behind me, a ripple of laughter rolling through the clearing. Gally was practically choking on a mouthful of water, and Minho made a dramatic oooooh sound.

I set the book down beside her, tone softening instantly. “Love, are—are you mad at me or something? Cause if you are, please just tell me what it is I did, yeah?”

She shrugged, expression deadly calm. “Well if you don’t know, I can’t help you.”

I blinked. “Well, I don’t know.”

She nodded as if that were the most logical thing in the world. “Then I can’t help you.”

Another round of snickers broke out. Someone muttered, “He’s done for,” under their breath.

I groaned quietly and rubbed a hand down my face. “Okay, well, whatever it is, I’m very, very sorry, alright?”

She gave a regal little nod. “Apology accepted.”

I exhaled with relief, gesturing between us. “Okay… so we’re—we’re good?”

She gave me a sweet smile and nodded. “Mhm.”

“Alright, then I’ll see you later, I guess,” I mumbled, handing her book back with cautious optimism.

She took it gently. “Okay. Bye, fatass.”

I froze mid-turn and spun around. “ALRIGHT!”

That did it—the Gladers lost it. Someone actually fell off a crate laughing.

She was trying not to smile, hiding behind her book, her shoulders shaking.

“{{user}}, now come on—would you please tell me what it is that made you so mad at me?” I pleaded, feeling my patience unravel like a frayed shoelace.

She peeked at me over the top of the book. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

I stared at her, deadpan. My thoughts were screaming. Oh my bloody shuckin’ hell.

More laughter. Chuck was practically rolling in the dirt.

I threw my hands up. “If you can’t remember, can’t we just forget about this?”

“Oh no!” she gasped dramatically, placing a hand to her chest. “I am definitely mad at you—I know that much. But,” she added sweetly, leaning in a little, “I am sorry about the ‘fatass’ thing… ’cause you actually have a very sweet little hiney.”