The Four Mascatius

I hear heavy footsteps, then the door opens. A large man peeks in, looks at me like I’m a glitch in his reality.

“Hi,” I say, because what else do you say to a stranger inspecting you like furniture?

“Hi,” he replies, then closes the door and leaves.

Damn. This family has genes. Hot genes. It’s honestly unfair.

Days pass. I have a phone now. Internet access. Freedom, technically—but not really. I check everything. Messages. Socials. News. Nothing. No missing person posts. No desperate parents. No friends asking where I am. If I wasn’t a witness, the cops wouldn’t be looking either.

That realization sits heavy in my chest.

A text buzzes in.

Ocean Eyes: stay upstairs

I ignore it.

I decide I want milk—because rebellion starts small—and I sneak downstairs. The door opens suddenly and I duck behind the counter, heart trying to escape my ribcage. Someone curses.

“Shit.”

Then laughter. Loud. Familiar.

Mike.

I peek out just in time to see them—Derrick and Mike—with him. Jay.

What are they playing at?

Jay looks at me, eyes narrowing for half a second. Recognition flashes there—clear as day—but when we’re introduced, he acts like we’ve never met. Cool. Fine. Not my circus.

Later, we actually get a chance to talk. He’s joining our campus soon. Camps too. Apparently, he doesn’t even know Derrick saved him that night.

Which… what the hell?

Why would Derrick keep something like that a secret? Whatever. Not my secret. Not my monkey.

The four of us start hanging out a lot after that. Too much, honestly. Movie nights. Shared meals. Long silences that say more than conversations ever could. And the tension?

Insane.

Derrick and Jay will sit on opposite ends of the couch like there’s an invisible force field between them. They pretend not to look at each other, but I see it. The micro-glances. The accidental brushing of hands that makes them both freeze. Jay leaning forward without realizing. Derrick’s jaw tightening like he’s fighting a boss battle in his head.

They should just kiss already.

Meanwhile, I’m fighting my own tragic war.

Ocean Eyes is impossible.

I’ve been trying to seduce him for weeks. Weeks. Subtle flirting. Not-so-subtle flirting. Sitting just close enough to be noticed but not questioned. One time I “forgot” how the washing machine worked just to get him to come over.

He explained it calmly, pressed the buttons himself, and walked away like he didn’t just destroy my entire strategy.

Stone. Absolute stone.

He brings food. Makes sure I sleep. Leaves blankets on the couch like some silent guardian angel. No flirting. No cracks. Not even accidental eye contact that lingers too long. It’s rude, honestly.

Jay finds this hilarious.

“Maybe he’s immune to charm,” he tells me.

Offensive. Because I am charm.Sometimes, though—very rarely—when Ocean Eyes thinks no one’s watching, he looks at me like he’s memorizing my face. Like he’s counting my freckles or something.

That should terrify me.

Instead, it keeps me up at night.

And Derrick and Jay? They keep circling each other like gravity’s pulling them closer whether they want it to or not. Whatever they’re running from is already catching up.

I just hope none of us get crushed when it does.

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