— 𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇 —

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓪𝓲𝓻 is fresh with invigoration; a light breeze gently tugs at the effervescent tendrils of freshly cut grass that litter the walkway of the Bridgewood community. One could easily tell that autumn was coming; not only was the temperature dropping at a steady rate, but the leaves on the neighborhood oak trees were beginning to turn vibrant shades of orange and red that would soon fade to pastel as a gift from the burning sun. Soon enough, they would fall onto the street — as if to decorate for the upcoming holiday that many of the Bridgewood parents utmost despised. And although Chloe wasn't too content due to the abrupt — and almost terse — end of summer, she wasn't reluctant to set aflame the wicks of her favorite pumpkin scented candles in her bedroom, and drape her cream walls with cotton webs that she had bought the weekend before.

The soft hum of the morning birds wasn't quite as loud as usual, Chloe notices as she adjusts the leather straps of her bag that rest unpleasantly on her shoulders. Perhaps they, too, realized that school had started back, and wanted to ease the pressure that was put on the returning students by halting their constant chimes as they perched themselves on the trees outside. Chloe's dreary mood for the day had already been decided — once she was woken up by the blaring tones of the alarm clock on her nightstand, the girl knew that the day ahead would be filled with a mixture of exhaustion and boredom, which wasn't abnormal for her. The blonde girl, whom is currently focused on the pavement below her feet, had only a short time to decide on an outfit and pull her hair into a messy bun before departing her home. There had been no extra time to find breakfast (even if it was hurriedly), because she couldn't have a luxury such as that when she purposefully woke up at the latest possible time before making her way to Baxter High.

She found relaxation in the overwhelming  feelings the outside offered to her — it gifted her with the warmth of the early sun, while still having the slightest of coolness in the air that, when delicately brushing her skin, would keep her eyes open and pry her from her ongoing enervation. Chloe knew that soon enough she would be retrieving her favorite toboggans from the shoebox shoved into the corner of her closet, and breaking out the many sweaters she had been gifted on her birthday the year before. Yet, even as she was basking in the temporary glory of the beautiful day, Chloe couldn't help but feel as though something— whatever it may be — was off. Maybe it was an instinct as she walked down her routined path, seeing as how everything was constantly the same in the neighborhood she had spent the entirety of her life in.

In one moment she had her eyebrows furrowed while scanning her surroundings, then the next she was staring at an unfamiliar woman that was preoccupied with handling a box from the trunk of her silver Honda. Chloe stops in her tracks, stuffing her phone into her back pocket and turning to get a better view of the unknown person — she and her parents were getting new neighbors? It was uncommon for Chloe to not know something, seeing how word got around quick in her hometown, and it was even more of a surprise considering she lived right beside the now occupied home. Apparently the word didn't travel too quickly; or perhaps she just hadn't paid enough attention during the past week at school. Gossip was important in the Bridgewood community, according to Chloe's best friend. In fact, without the very whispers in the hallways as someone walked by, or the talks that her mother and her friends shared over morning coffee, Maya had said that the town would turn the darkest shade of gray.

"The students feed off of talking down about others," Maya had shook her head as she spoke, "and my mother is as guilty as any of the teenagers we see every day. If it weren't for bad-mouthing everyone else, spreading lies and telling secrets, I'm sure Bridgewood and Baxter would fall apart at the seams."

It was true, Chloe knew that — but thankfully, she and Maya never fell victim to any of the gossip. No one took the time to study their every feature and seek their flaws to reveal to the school, nor did they want to. All of the students were too busy with following the daily life of everything materialistic and convincing themselves that they'd never have a trace of joy in their life until they had everything they wanted, along with all of the money that anyone could ever possibly wish for. If not that, at least as much money as Nichole Taylor, who had already decided that she was the dictator of the social hierarchy at Baxter. Chloe didn't know Nichole all that well anyway, which made staying unseen an easy everyday task.

But that's something she was having problems with at the moment — staying concealed. The woman closes the trunk of her car, before turning to find Chloe's curious gaze. Immediately, the woman grows excited; her eyes alight as she waves to the blonde-haired girl. "Good morning!"

"Um, good morning!" Chloe calls back, clearing her throat as the woman makes her way down to the sidewalk to greet her. "You must be our new neighbor."

"Neighbors," the brunette corrects with a friendly smile, offering her hand to Chloe. "My husband got transferred through his company nearly a week ago, and it was in our best interests to move a bit closer to his new office."

"Family?" The teen grows more curious, glancing down to the glittering ring on her finger as she shakes the woman's hand.

She was beautiful, and didn't look too much older than Chloe's mother; her teeth were perfectly aligned, and her cheeks were flushed from the cool morning air. But what captured the girl's attention the most was her eyes— they were a golden shade of brown, which resembled melted honey.

"We have a son and a daughter," the woman replies with a light chuckle. "I'm Amelia Lars."

"Chloe Williams," she smiles back, still studying the eyes of Amelia. "It's nice to meet you. I was unaware that we were getting neighbors, unfortunately — did you start moving in this morning?"

Surely Chloe wasn't so preoccupied that she hadn't realized there were new residents nearby; if they had been there for nearly a week, of course. Otherwise, she wouldn't be surprised about her ignorance, seeing as it was justified. Then again, she was very oblivious to most things, and had been told several times by not only her parents, but by her best friend too. She could've guessed it herself, actually — the occasions in which she was unmindful happened a lot more than she'd like to admit.

"We got in late last night and finished unpacking this morning," Amelia replies. "My son was an obstacle, he isn't too comfortable with starting all over at a new school, whereas my daughter is the complete opposite. She's absolutely thrilled to be here."

"Your son's reaction is understandable," Chloe gives her an assuring glance, "I'm sure I'd share the same reaction if I had to move away from a place that I was attached to. Bridgewood isn't the best, but I'm sure he'll find something here that makes him happy."

But Chloe wasn't attached to Bridgewood in the sense that it had been her forever home. Instead, she was attached to the few people in it that were actually genuine. If her parents were to tell her that they had purchased a house somewhere else, it would break her heart to hear that she'd have to leave such wonderful people behind and start anew. One of her favorite people was the local bakery owner, Elizabeth, who she had known for the entirety of her seventeen years of living. Elizabeth was kindhearted and welcoming, and Chloe visited her bakery every weekend (a new tradition since she acquired a car), dropping by to spend time with the woman and bring home a box of pastries for her family. Perhaps she could stop by this afternoon and retrieve some for Amelia and her children — perhaps her son would be uplifted to know that his mother could take him to get sweets whenever he was feeling homesick.

"I'm sure he will." Amelia says, her beautiful smile returning to her lips. "It may take a while for him to get accustomed, but it's so beautiful here and I can't see why he wouldn't enjoy a new place like this."

"Everything is better in the fall, you chose the right time to move." Choose states, her eyes brushing over the leaves that scattered around Amelia's yard. "And there's even a pumpkin festival coming up soon, everyone in Bridgewood goes — maybe your family would enjoy it."

"That's a fantastic idea," her eyes alight with an idea. "Thank you, really. You'll have to stop by for dinner sometime, I'd love to meet your parents."

"Of course, I'm sure they'll be happy to take up your offer. And I'll let you know the date for the pumpkin festival when the posters are put up at school," the teenager was glad to hear that she would have someone new that was down-to-earth and friendly. "Oh, and welcome to Bridgewood."

"Thank you," Amelia grins, "have fun at school, Chloe!"

As if on cue, just as the blonde girl began to make her way down the sidewalk to continue her walk to school, the front door of Amelia's home swings open to reveal a teenager distressed teenager. The boy grumbles, running his fingers through his messy hair as Amelia rests her hands on her hips in disdain. Chloe stops in her tracks, her eyes curiously watching the two. From here, she couldn't see the boy's features, but one thing was for sure— he was certainly not the age she had assumed he was.

"You could've been late," she scolds, her eyes narrowing as he nearly stumbles down the pavement to meet her. "And to think I even set an alarm for you. Goodness Maxen, you look like you just rolled out of bed. You took a shower last night, didn't you?"

Maxen. Chloe comes to the conclusion that this must be Amelia's son — the one who was so troubled about leaving their previous home.

"That's because I did," the boy sighs, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. "I slept through the alarm this morning, and yes, I took a shower before I went to sleep."

"You have fifteen minutes to get to school, and since I have to drive Anastasia, you'll just have to walk." Amelia pulls the car keys from her pocket, her face suddenly overcome with a look of stress. "Just try not to get lost on your way, please."

"Why can't you drop me off before you take Ana?" Maxen complains, groaning as he tugs on the straps of his backpack. "At least until my car is fixed — I hate walking."

Chloe stands wordlessly, astounded by the fact that Amelia had a teenager, and still managed to look as though she was significantly younger than what she apparently was. But she was beginning to turn around; eavesdropping was wrong, and although she was overwhelmed with wonder, she refused to stay and continue listening to their conversation.

"You should've thought about that before you crashed it," she turns her back to her son, retreating back to the home. "If I hear that you skip school today, you won't be getting your car back. You'd better get going, sweetheart, have a good day at school."

Maxen huffs, starting his walk to school as he mumbles, "whatever" under his breath. With Chloe only a short distance ahead of him, she felt the urge to turn around — to greet him, or even to just study his features and find the similarities that he shared with his mother. In fact, her mind practically begged her to put a stop to her endless wondering and find out what this boy looked like. She wanted ask him questions about where he had previously lived, and why exactly he didn't want to leave — what was the thing that he was attached to? But the logical side of her mind turned away from her constant wondering, and focused on anything other than the Lars boy.

And the first thing her eyes landed on was a butterfly in the distance. It had briefly landed on a flower growing next to the walkway, one that had bloomed fully but looked as though it were beginning to lose color. But her distraction was soon decimated from a distant voice that came from behind her.

"I hope you know where you're going," the voice says, filled with slight amusement.

"Why wouldn't I?" Chloe questions, choosing not to turn around to face Maxen.

"If you were to get us lost, I wouldn't know how to get to . . . well, anywhere," he chuckles a bit.

"Get us lost?" Chloe furrows her eyebrows, still not turning despite the fact that she really wanted to.

"From the backpack you're carrying, I'm assuming that you're walking to school. And although you're quite short, I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that you're in high school," he pauses. "Am I right?"

The blonde girl hums to herself, "So you're following me?"

"That's correct," Maxen speaks, speeding up to a light jog in order to catch up with Chloe. "Although I wouldn't call it a creepy stalk, considering I just need to get to school. What's your name, blondie?"

Chloe halts, finally facing him. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words — her head was suddenly empty, and words no longer rested in her throat. Maxen stood quite a few inches taller than her, his molasses-colored eyes meeting her own. They were colored like cinnamon, or the color of deep sienna, with a mischievous glint that seemed to reflect the corners of his mouth, which were fighting a smile. They were every shade of brown that Chloe could imagine, a raw umber and caramel mix, dotted with bits of dark chocolate. They glow with humor and playfulness that gave her the sense of his nature. The same pastel pink tinge in Amelia's cheeks was in her son's, his jawline sculpted and his mahogany hair tousled from his recent state of sleep. The Williams girl was completely dumbfounded from the utter beauty that he resonated, and had to clear her throat before she could speak, "Chloe. My name is Chloe."

But while she was collecting herself, he couldn't help but study her, too — her eyes were a hickory as rich as the earth's soil; stained with the color of hot chocolate on a cold, winter night that could wrap around anyone like a blanket; engulfing them in its warmth and making them feel at home. And he could've gotten lost in them, too — if she hadn't broken the silence.

"I'm Max," he replies, flashing her an award-winning smile. "I have a feeling we're going to be good friends, Chloe."

And although Chloe chuckled, shaking her head as she continued walking, she couldn't help but allow the corners of her lips to twitch upwards into a smile. Contrary to what Amelia believed, her son already seemed to be enjoying Bridgewood.

And Chloe, too, had the same feeling that Maxen did.

_______

❝ are you guys excited? because i am.
this book is so different than what it
originally was, so i'm hoping the o/g readers
are okay with all the changes. but it'll still
have the same outcome as the last time ;)
comment your thoughts on the writing,
descriptions, characters, and if you have any
questions. i'm going to be updating every
week or so, so keep your eyes peeled
and let me know what you think!! xoxo ❞