Summary:

Pulling a tall, blue-eyed man out of a lake was not how she pictured her night going—but she wasn't mad about it

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The loud splash startled a few birds from the trees, their wings beating frantically as they took to the sky. For a moment, Nola froze, her heart racing in her chest. But then, she scrambled to her feet and rushed to the edge of the wharf, her pulse quickening with each step.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling. "Are you okay?"

The only response was the sound of splashing, followed by a panicked voice. "No! Not really!"

Nola squinted into the darkness, barely able to make out a figure struggling in the water. Her stomach dropped. Without thinking, she dropped to her stomach, leaning over the edge of the wharf and extending her arm as far as she could.

"Over here! Grab my hand!" she shouted.

The figure thrashed in the water, moving clumsily in her direction. His hand, cold and slippery from the water, finally caught hers, Nola gripped it tightly and pulled with all her strength. He was heavier than she expected, and she felt herself slipping forward, her chest scraping against the wooden boards of the wharf. Desperately, she reached out with her free hand and grabbed hold of the mooring post beside her, anchoring herself just in time,

"Hold on!" she gasped, her muscles burning from the effort.

With a final, powerful heave, she "somehow" managed to pull him up onto the dock. They both collapsed in a heap, gasping for air, their bodies tangled together as they lay on the cold, now wet boards. Nola could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts as she processed what had just happened.

The man coughed, turning onto his back as he spat out water. His dark hair clung to his forehead, dripping, while his clothes stuck to his body, completely soaked through. His chest rose and fell heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

"I... I'm so sorry," he managed between gasps, his voice strained but laced with relief. "That... wasn't part of the plan."

Nola, still catching her breath, sat up, hugging her knees to her chest and letting out a shaky laugh. "I figured that much," she said, the absurdity of the situation softening her initial shock.

The man coughed again, his body still rattling from the effort. He let out a groan, and his hand instinctively went to the camera slung around his neck. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath.

Nola glanced at him, her eyebrows knitting together. "You okay?"

He winced, lifting the camera. It was soaked, water dripping from every corner. "My camera... my journal." He let out another frustrated sigh, holding up a limp notebook. "Great."

Her eyes fell on the waterlogged journal, its pages clumped together in a soggy mess. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at him before speaking. "May I...?" she asked, nodding toward the journal.

He sighed, clearly exasperated, but handed it over. "Sure. It's not like we could make it any worse at this point."

Gently, Nola picked up the journal and carefully began to flip through the sodden pages, trying not to tear them any more than they already were. Many were too smudged to make out, but a few sketches—trees, landscapes—were still faintly visible. She lingered over one in particular, the lines blurred but still clear enough to tell it was a beautifully detailed drawing.

"They're not all ruined," she said, glancing up at him.

The man gave a small, humourless laugh, running a hand through his wet hair. "I feel like an idiot. Wasn't even paying attention—just kept walking and, boom, lake."

Nola handed the journal back, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You might be able to save a few of these," she offered, her voice kind.

He took the journal, his frustration still visible but tempered by her words. "Thanks."

"Guess I owe you one," he said, his voice lighter, though still tinged with the remnants of his earlier panic.

Nola smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just don't go falling into lakes anymore," she teased. "We'll call it even."

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Deal."

——————————————————————

For a while, neither of them said anything. The only sound was the gentle ripple of water and the distant rustle of leaves. Nola fiddled absentmindedly with the worn leather bracelet on her wrist as her thoughts raced.

His shivering pulled her from her thoughts, his breath turning to mist in the cold night as he wrapped his arms around himself.

Nola glanced at him, eyes widening at the sight of his soaked shirt clinging to him like a second skin. "Shit, you're soaked," she said quickly. "Where do you even live? I don't think I've ever seen you around."

He looked up, blinking as if processing the question. "Uh, not here, apparently. Wherever 'here' is," he said, a weak laugh escaping his lips. "I live like, I dunno, three hours that way?" He pointed in a vague direction. "Or, wait—maybe that way?" He squinted, clearly lost in more ways than one.

"Three hours?" Nola's brow furrowed. "What were you doing all the way out here?"

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his face flushed, whether from cold or embarrassment she couldn't tell. "Exploring, I guess? There was this dirt road, and... well, I thought it'd be cool to see where it went."

Nola rolled her eyes, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth as she pushed herself up off the ground. "So, basically, you got lost."

He chuckled, standing as well. He carefully slung the damp camera over his shoulder and picked up the soggy journal with a little more care. "Yeah, pretty much. But hey, it could've been worse, right?"

She shot a glance back at the lake, her smile softening as she dusted her hands off. "Could've been worse."

As they started walking along the narrow path back toward the village, the sound of their footsteps filled the quiet space between them. Liam glanced around, taking in the small homes. His clothes squelched with every step. "I don't suppose there's a midnight laundromat here?"

Nola laughed under her breath. "Not exactly. There's an inn though, down the street. They've got a boiler room where you can hang your clothes. It's warm... might even have something dry for you to wear."

He blinked at her, clearly relieved. "You're serious? That sounds...really nice, honestly."

"Yeah." Nola shrugged, tossing him a quick look. "So, you seriously didn't know this place existed?"

He shook his head, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Nope. Weird, right? I live close, but no one's ever mentioned it."

She laughed quietly. "Yeah, you don't really find it unless you're looking. Or, in your case, not looking. You know, what with you falling into the lake and all."

Hey," he protested, though his grin widened. "It was dark. I was distracted."

"By what?" She asked, genuinely curious.

He paused, glancing up at the trees swaying gently in the breeze. "The quiet, I guess. It's different here—quieter than where I'm from."

Nola nodded, her gaze softening as the quiet settled between them again. "Yeah... I get that." Pushing the slightly damp sleeve of her oversized sweater further up her arm. It was old, slightly frayed at the cuffs, but the familiar warmth and weight of it felt comforting.

He noticed her movements, his blue eyes catching on the bracelet Nola was still playing with for a moment before he smiled softly. "Do you like it? The quiet?"

Nola hesitated for a moment, surprised. She wasn't used to people asking her questions like that, especially not strangers. It felt odd, the way words seemed to flow so easily between them. She'd never talked this much to someone she'd just met, and yet, there was something about him—something disarming... and comforting. She shrugged, her voice quieter now. "It can be nice, sometimes. But it can feel... isolating, you know? Like the world is going on without you."

Liam nodded thoughtfully, his expression shifting as if her words struck a chord. "It's like watching the world through a window, isn't it?" he said gently. "You see it, all happening out there, but you're not really a part of it."

Nola blinked, startled by how perfectly he had captured what she had been feeling for so long but had never been able to put into words. She nodded, her gaze dropping to the cobblestones beneath her feet. "Yeah," she murmured. "Like you're just waiting for something to change. But it never does."

He hesitated, then stopped in his tracks, his voice quieter now, almost cautious. "Do you ever think about leaving? About what else might be out there?"

His question hung in the air like a weight Nola couldn't shake. She stopped walking too, the silence between them growing as the village seemed to fade into the background. Of course she had thought about it. But leaving? Actually walking away? It was a thought she had toyed with a hundred times, maybe more. But every time she entertained the idea, that same heaviness settled over her. The guilt. It was always there, gnawing at her. How could she even think of leaving her family behind, no matter how stifling it felt? The thought of abandoning them felt like a betrayal, even if part of her longed to find something more.

She glanced down, her foot scuffing the ground as she wrestled with her thoughts. His gaze softened as he watched her wrestle with the question, noticing the way her shoulders tensed because his voice dropped, turning gentle. "Sorry, that's a heavy question. You don't have to answer."

Nola smiled a little at that, appreciating the out he gave her. "That's okay," she murmured, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. "Thank you."

——————————————————————

The inn's warm glow finally came into view, and Nola slowed her steps, her eyes drifting toward the cozy building. "You should be able to get a room here," she said quietly, nodding toward it. "They'll take care of you. They're good people."

He glanced at the inn, then back at her, his expression softening. "Thanks... for everything," he said, his voice carrying a genuine warmth.

Nola offered a small, quiet smile in return, nodding once before turning to leave. Her steps were hesitant, unsure, as if something held her back. But before she could walk away, his voice called out to her.

"Hey!"

She paused, turning back toward him, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

"You didn't tell me your name," he said, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

"My name?" she asked with a smile, crossing her arms across her chest.

He grinned, leaning into the moment with a playful gleam in his eyes. "Well, I must know the name of my saviour so I can sing her praises back home," voice dripping with exaggerated cheesiness.

Nola snorted quietly, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the amused smile that followed. "It's Nola," she said, finally obliging.

He nodded, his grin widening, deciding then and there that her smile was one of his new favourite things. "Nola," he repeated softly, letting the name roll off his tongue.

Then, looking up at her, he added, "Liam."

Nola raised an eyebrow. "Nice to meet you, Liam," she replied, her smile lingering just a little longer as she crossed her arms against the night's chill. "Now get inside before you give yourself hypothermia."

Liam chuckled, giving a playful salute. "I might see you around," a question lingering in his words.

Nola shrugged, her smile teasing. "Maybe."

——————————————————————

They parted ways and as Nola walked away from the inn she hugged her arms around herself, the familiar fabric of her sweater brushing against her skin. It was time to go home. But as she walked her mind still spun from the unexpected events of the evening.

Liam.

A soft smile crept across her face as she remembered his playful grin, the lightness in his eyes that had made her feel something shift within her. He was different, unlike anyone she'd met and for the first time in a long while, the weight she carried every day felt a little lighter.

The village was still now, the soft hum of distant life pretty much gone, reminding her just how small everything was here. The night seemed to stretch on endlessly, quiet and familiar. Too familiar.

Liam's question echoed in her head, the words lingering like a shadow. "Do you ever think about leaving?"

It meant stepping into something unknown, something she didn't think herself ready for.

Her fingers traced the edges of her bracelet, a habit she had picked up when she was feeling shy or a bit overwhelmed, it grounded her.

The truth was, she had no idea.

But tonight, for the first time in a long while, she felt the faintest hint of possibility, as though something just beyond her reach was waiting. It wasn't enough to act on but it was there, a tiny flicker of hope she hadn't felt in years.

As Nola approached her house, the familiar sight of its worn facade came into view, bathed in the dim light of the street lamps. The small, uneven stones of the path crunched softly beneath her shoes as she walked.

She paused for a moment, taking in the quiet, her eyes lifting to the window of her bedroom on the second floor.

With a soft click, she turned the knob and eased the door open, stepping inside with the practiced silence of someone who had mastered slipping in unnoticed. The door shut quietly behind her, and she winced, holding her breath for a moment. The house was still, the faint ticking of the hallway clock the only sound.

She let out a small sigh of relief, kicking off her shoes by the door. The familiar scent of lavender and old wood filled the air, wrapping around her like a blanket. The hallway felt narrow, the weight of the night settling on her shoulders as she carefully tiptoed past the living room. The faint glow of the TV flickered through the half-open door—her mother had fallen asleep on the couch again.

Nola moved up the stairs with quiet precision, her hand trailing along the smooth banister. The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the narrow window at the top of the stairs, casting faint shadows along the walls.

Pushing her door open, she stepped inside and leaned against it as it shut softly behind her. The silence of her room felt heavier than usual, the stillness pressing in as she moved to the edge of her bed and sat down, running a hand through her soft curls.

She wasn't ready for the answers to the questions Liam had stirred, but now... now she felt like maybe... just maybe... there was more waiting for her than she had allowed herself to believe.

In this moment though, this was her life. This room, this house, this village. She'd stay quiet for a little longer.