Love or a Aneurysm

Chapter Three

Seanna POV

Okay.

So.

Either that guy just fell in love with me…

…or he had a full-body system malfunction.

Because I have never — in my entire, extremely sheltered life — seen a grown man spin in a confused circle and flee to the bathroom like a startled deer.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh as I finish folding the last of the towels.

Poor guy looked… overwhelmed.

Not creepy.

Not cocky.

Just—

Short-circuited.

Weirdly, the thought makes my mouth twitch.

I stack the final pile neatly into the guest bin, smoothing the top towel with automatic precision. Years of farm chores and church perfectionism do not simply disappear because you buy leggings.

The gym is quiet again.

Normal.

Almost boring.

Almost.

The front door swings open.

I glance up automatically—

—and my entire face lights up.

“Autumn!”

She pushes inside, shoulders slightly hunched against the cold, blonde hair falling straight down her back. Her blue scrubs are slightly wrinkled, and she’s carrying a plastic bag that can only contain one thing at this ungodly hour.

Gas station food.

The only cuisine available after midnight in this town.

Tall, pale, glasses slightly sliding down her nose — Autumn looks exactly like what she is: exhausted, sharp-eyed, and approximately three sarcastic comments away from starting trouble.

Her big blue eyes find mine over the rims of her glasses.

“There she is,” Autumn says dryly. “My favorite future runaway bride.”

I gasp softly. “Shh — walls have ears.”

“Good,” she deadpans. “Let them be uncomfortable.”

I snort and immediately grab my phone, shooting Nate a quick text.

Me: going on lunch — don’t miss me too much

Three dots appear instantly.

Nate: already devastated

I roll my eyes and jerk my head toward the back hallway.

“C’mon. Before my thirty minutes of freedom expires.”

The break room is small but blessedly quiet.

Autumn drops into the chair across from me and immediately starts unpacking the convenience store feast — two sad-looking sandwiches, chips, and something in a cup that is either soup or a science experiment.

I eye it suspiciously.

“…You’re brave.”

“It was two dollars,” she says flatly. “At this point I’m more immune to preservatives than the average raccoon.”

Fair.

We fall into easy silence for a moment — the comfortable kind that only comes from years of shared secrets and mutual survival.

Autumn finally peers at me over her glasses.

“So,” she says. “How’s the night shift rebellion going?”

I lean back in my chair, fighting a grin.

“Well… some dude just either fell in love with me or had an aneurysm.”

Autumn freezes mid-chip.

“…I’m listening.”

I lean forward conspiratorially.

“Man spun in a full circle like a lost puppy and then bolted to the bathroom.”

For exactly two seconds—

Autumn stares at me.

Then she loses it.

Not loud laughter — Autumn never does anything loud — but the silent, shoulder-shaking kind that makes her glasses slide further down her nose.

“You’re kidding,” she wheezes.

“I wish I was.”

I pop a chip into my mouth, still amused.

“He was huge too. Like — scary huge. And just… blue-screened.”

Autumn wipes under one eye, still grinning faintly.

“Well,” she says dryly, “to be fair…”

Her gaze drags very obviously down my frame and back up again.

“…I’d stare too.”

“Autumn,” I groan.

“What?” she says innocently. “I’m supportive. And realistic.”

We both laugh, the sound soft but warm in the tiny room.

God.

I missed this.

Missed normal.

Missed her.

But then the earlier unease creeps back in, and my smile fades just a little.

“…There was another guy though.”

Autumn’s expression sharpens immediately.

She knows that tone.

“Yeah?”

I nod slowly.

“I checked his profile when he signed in. Ezekiel.”

Even saying the name makes that weird prickle return to the back of my neck.

“I don’t know,” I admit quietly. “He just… weirds me out. He’s always staring.”

Autumn’s brows draw together slightly.

But then — because she is physically incapable of staying serious for too long — she leans back and smirks.

“Maybe you’re just magnetic tonight.”

I give her a look.

She grins.

“Okay, okay. But seriously — where is he?”

I gesture vaguely toward the gym floor.

“Pretty sure he’s over by the Smith machine.”

Autumn immediately leans sideways in her chair, peeking dramatically toward the door.

“Hold on,” she mutters. “Let me evaluate the vibes.”

I choke on a laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Shh. I’m profiling.”

A beat.

Then—

“…okay,” Autumn says slowly, settling back into her chair.

That is not the reaction I expected.

I narrow my eyes.

“…Okay what?”

Her lips twitch.

“Oh, honey.”

Suspicion blooms immediately.

“What does that mean?”

Autumn just takes a slow sip of her questionable soup.

“You’re gonna want to be careful,” she says mildly.

My stomach dips.

But before I can press—

My phone buzzes.

I glance down.

James.

And just like that, lunch suddenly feels way too short.