Oakley Ponciano glared at her. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm straight."
Grace Barron smiled, letting go of her hand. "I know. If you weren't straight, I wouldn't have replied to your post to begin with. But seriously, how did your brain jump there so fast?"
Oakley glanced at her injured finger. "I was just curious. Asked without thinking."
Grace sighed. "Well, since my gestures don't make your heart flutter, clearly they wouldn't have that effect on others either, right?"
She paused, eyes thoughtful. "Besides, this world's mostly straight women anyway. No matter how considerate I am, most people will just chalk it up to me being a decent human being."
Like Jessica Brooks.
Oakley looked at her. Strangely, she had no rebuttal.
Her gaze shifted. "So… you're not like this with everyone?"
Grace chuckled softly, slipping the remaining Band-Aids back into her pocket. "Please. Do I look like some all-loving saint trying to save humanity?"
If she had that kind of emotional bandwidth, she'd already be a world-class guru floating above it all. Truth was—she was just another flawed mortal.
Checking her watch, Grace changed the subject smoothly. "Anyway. Enough of this. Let's eat."
"Gladly." Oakley's demeanor softened, the sharp little thorns around her beginning to fold inward.
They waited by the roadside. Grace casually raised a hand and hailed the first cab speeding by. Once Oakley was seated, she circled around and slid in beside her.
"408 Riverstone Avenue, Robert's Kitchen, please," Grace said to the driver after a quick glance at her phone.
The ride was short—under twenty minutes. It was a weekday and traffic was light.
The restaurant was small and weathered, its outer walls bearing the gentle wear of time. Yet inside, flowers and potted greenery brought a surprising charm. It didn't feel shabby. It felt tranquil. Cultured, even.
They ordered the pickled radish duck soup, stir-fried greens, and shredded pork in garlic sauce. Grace lifted the teapot and poured two cups—one for herself, one pushed gently toward Oakley.
Oakley ran her fingers over the cup's coarse lip and picked up their earlier conversation.
"So, you only treat people well if they meet your criteria? Why've you been nice to me, then?"
Grace rested her chin in one palm, her lashes lifting. "Does everything have to have a reason? Why can't you believe someone might simply want to be good to you?"
Oakley took a sip quietl and set her cup down softly. "I wasn't always this skeptical. It's just—too many betrayals. Too many knives in the back."
Grace didn't flinch. She went straight to the point.
"Let me guess. I'm part of that too? Because of the post I supposedly liked back then?"
Oakley was taken aback by Grace's blunt honesty. She hadn't expected Grace to bring it up so openly, without hesitation.
Grace watched her reaction, then said plainly, "You can relax. The Barron family hasn't produced a single crook in three generations. Not one scandal. I'm not the type to hurt someone for personal gain. When I said that like wasn't from me, I meant it. Someone hacked my account."
Her tone was earnest, unwavering.
Oakley bit her lip, tapping her pinky nail against the table in thought.
"I'm not trying to force you to believe me," Grace said, a soft smile returning. "You don't trust me yet—that's fine. Spend enough time with me and you'll see for yourself."
Oakley folded her arms across her chest. "It's not that I can't believe people can be kind without wanting something. It's just—I've been burned too many times."
Grace nodded. "I get that. Our experiences shape how we think. That's why I said—no pressure."
Oakley studied her. Grace really was... soothing. Like a breeze slipping through an open window at dawn, lifting the curtains and brushing away the heaviness inside.
Even though Oakley had sworn she'd never again trust so easily—especially not someone who'd once hurt her—she couldn't help the slow-growing flicker of admiration for Grace.
"Honestly," she murmured, "I think what shocked me the most was that people I thought were normal turned out to be awful. It makes me doubt my judgment."
Grace's expression shifted.
She remembered. The gossip from college. She hadn't known Oakley well back then—but she'd heard the stories.
The first "scandal" had involved Oakley and her roommate, let's call her Girl A.
Girl A came from a struggling background, withdrawn and awkward. Naturally, the others in their dorm found her difficult.
Oakley had stepped in. Shielded her. Brought her into her circle. Shared food, bought her clothes, helped her bloom into a more confident version of herself.
But as Girl A flourished, she drifted. Not only that, she turned bitter—accusing Oakley of treating her like a servant. Said Oakley's kindness was a mask for manipulation. Called it emotional bullying.
Oakley had exploded when she found out. They'd confronted each other at the campus lake, voices raised as students gathered to watch. It ended in a very public falling out.
And because Oakley had been sharp-tongued and visibly angry during that confrontation, public opinion turned against her. Most people sided with Girl A. Poor, misunderstood Girl A. Victim of a rich, privileged bully.
Oakley's reputation suffered.
But Grace had never bought it.
She remembered another moment—catching Oakley at a street stall, buying far too many sweet potatoes after hearing the vendor was struggling. That night, Oakley posted online:
"Guess who ate so many sweet potatoes she clogged up her digestive tract and ended up in the ER at 2 a.m.? This girl."
Silly, a little ridiculous—but weirdly endearing. Grace had smiled at the post, even though it was nearly midnight and she was half-asleep.
All of it added up to one conclusion: Oakley wasn't a bully. She had genuinely cared. People just hadn't understood her.
Grace tilted her head. "Were you sheltered growing up?"
Oakley blinked. "How'd you know?"
"Just a hunch."
"Well, you nailed it." Oakley sighed. "I was spoiled, honestly. Never lacked anything. Never had to solve problems myself. One word to my family and things got handled."
Grace nodded. "That kind of life—comfortable, worry-free—it leaves you unguarded. And when reality hits... it hits hard. Suddenly you realize not everyone's kind. That people can lie, manipulate. And you don't know how to respond."
She paused. "Don't close yourself off entirely. Just... learn to see things in shades. Don't go all black and white."
There was more. Oakley's boldness, her openness—things others might view as arrogance—were simply byproducts of her upbringing. Her confidence had unintentionally rubbed insecure people the wrong way.
Grace guessed her family had taught her how to live well, but not how to survive well. Not in this world.
Oakley stared at her.
She hadn't expected this level of clarity. It was as if Grace had opened her up, page by page, and read her cover to cover.
Everyone envied her life. Everyone thought she had it all. But no one saw the loneliness, the confusion. The silent ache of never quite fitting in.
Now, out of nowhere, Grace had waltzed into her life like an oasis in the desert—calm, grounded, and impossible to ignore.
And truth be told, Oakley didn't want to ignore her.
"You sure you never studied psychology?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.
Grace laughed shaking her head. "Nope. Wish I had. I've always been interested, but work's kept me too busy to really dive in."
In some ways, she really was just a cog in the machine.
Oakley's smile softened. "Then how do you see things so clearly, like you've got some ancient soul living in you."
Grace broke into quiet laughter.
Then her gaze shifted, lingering outside the window. "Maybe… it's just that I've seen a lot."
Outside, the trees swayed in full summer bloom, thick with green life. A few birds fluttered in and out, their wings brushing against the gentle hush of late afternoon.
Oakley leaned on one hand, watching her intently.
Grace, she thought, was like a heavy book with a plain cover—no indication of the depth hidden inside. Everything she knew about her was just the tip of an iceberg.
And Oakley couldn't deny it anymore.
She wanted to read more. Discover more.
The realization startled her. She blinked hard.
What was wrong with her? She never got curious this fast.
Was Grace some kind of sorceress? Had she cast a spell?