Chapter 3 — Enamel Pins and Leather Bracelets

Marlena

The thing about trying to babysit a human hurricane like Antaios Morgan is that he doesn’t let you forget who’s really in charge. Spoiler alert: it’s not me.

We were seated on opposite ends of the Morgan Estate’s cavernous living room. I was perched on the edge of a pristine white armchair that looked like it might scream if I breathed too hard, trying to focus on scrolling through my phone. Antaios, sprawled out on the leather sectional like a king holding court, had a sketchbook balanced on his knee. His pencil scratched against the paper with a kind of lazy precision that made me want to throw something at him. Just on principle.

“You’re awfully quiet over there,” I said, glancing up briefly. “Should I be worried?”

“Relax, Yu,” he replied, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “I’m on my best behavior.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s exactly what someone *not* on their best behavior would say.”

He grinned, not even bothering to look up. His attention seemed fixed on the sketchbook, which was suspicious all on its own. Antaios Morgan wasn’t exactly known for his ability to focus—unless it involved mischief.

Unable to resist, I leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better look. “What’s so fascinating in that sketchbook of yours? Drawing up blueprints for your next prank?”

He tilted the book away from me, his smirk widening. “Curiosity killed the cat, Yu.”

“Well, good thing I’m not a cat.” I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. “Let me see.”

“Not happening.” With one fluid motion, he snapped the book shut and tucked it behind a throw pillow. “My art is very personal. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Overwhelm me? Please.”

“Suit yourself.” He stretched, the picture of unbothered arrogance. The way he said it, all teasing and nonchalant, made it clear “later” meant “never.”

I huffed and leaned back in my chair, glaring at him. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he said with a grin as he shifted his weight, his leather bracelet catching the light. He adjusted it absently, his fingers brushing over the small silver bead with the kind of unconscious familiarity that snagged my attention.

I frowned. The bracelet didn’t match the rest of his “too cool to care” vibe. It was simple—worn leather with a bead etched in a design I couldn’t quite make out. It looked... important. Sentimental, even.

“What’s with the bracelet?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Antaios froze, his hand stilling on the bead. For a moment, it was like I’d caught him without armor—like there was something raw just under the surface. Then, just as quickly, the smirk returned, his casual mask snapping back into place. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” I said with a shrug, masking my curiosity. “It’s just... unexpected. You don’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

He glanced down at the bracelet, rolling the bead between his fingers. “Maybe I’m full of surprises.”

“Doubtful.”

“Harsh, Yu.” His grin faltered for just a moment before shifting gears. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as his sharp green eyes zeroed in on me. “You know, for someone who’s so interested in my accessories, you’ve got quite the collection of your own.”

I blinked. “What are you talking about?”

He nodded toward my hoodie. “The pins.”

I followed his gaze and spotted the cluster of enamel pins on my pocket. Today’s selection: a tiny coffee cup, a typewriter, and a cartoon alien waving a little flag. I hadn’t even realized I’d pinned them on this morning. They were just... there. A quiet, unconscious extension of me.

“What about them?” I asked, suddenly defensive.

“They’re cute,” he said, his tone playful but thankfully lacking the condescension I’d expected. “It’s like you’re carrying a little ‘Hi, I’m Marlena Yu’ starter pack everywhere you go.”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

“I’m hilarious, actually.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you must know, they’re just something I started collecting. They’re not that deep.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, clearly not buying it. “So, what’s the story behind the alien?”

“There’s no ‘story.’”

“Come on, Yu. There’s always a story.”

He wasn’t wrong, and I hated that. The alien pin was from a random road trip Emma and I had taken last summer. We’d stopped at this tiny gas station gift shop in the middle of nowhere, and she’d dared me to buy the weirdest thing I could find. It had been ridiculous, but it made me laugh—and sometimes, that was reason enough.

“None of your business,” I said finally, because there was no way I was telling him that story.

“Lame.” He rested his head against the back of the couch, watching me with this infuriatingly amused expression. “You know, you’re pretty quick to judge other people’s quirks for someone who’s basically wearing hers on her sleeve. Literally.”

My fingers automatically went to the alien pin, brushing over its tiny waving flag. The words I wanted to say got stuck somewhere in my throat, tangled with the fact that he wasn’t wrong.

“Whatever,” I muttered, focusing on the TV instead of his annoyingly perceptive face.

Before either of us could say anything else, a faint noise broke the quiet. A distant creak—barely audible but just enough to make me glance toward the hallway. I frowned, my ears straining, but the sound didn’t repeat.

“What’s wrong?” Antaios asked, noticing my frown.

“Thought I heard something.”

“It’s probably just the house settling,” he said, his voice dismissive. But his hand twitched slightly toward the bracelet, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was as unbothered as he pretended to be.

The room fell into a strange kind of silence—not awkward, exactly, but not entirely comfortable, either. The kind of silence where every sound felt magnified: the soft scratch of the pencil he’d picked back up, the faint hum of the central air, even my own breathing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for the bracelet again, his thumb tracing over the bead in a motion so thoughtless it had to be instinct.

“Hey, Yu,” he said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“What?” I asked, glancing up.

“You’ve got something on your face.”

I frowned, swiping at my cheek. “Where?”

“Right there.” He pointed, barely suppressing a laugh.

I froze. “There’s nothing on my face, is there?”

“Nope.” He burst into laughter, the kind that lit up his whole face. It was unrestrained and real, and no one should’ve been allowed to look that charming while being that insufferable.

“You’re such a child,” I said, though a small, reluctant smile tugged at my lips.

“And yet, you’re still here.”

I didn’t have a comeback for that. Instead, I glanced at him again, catching the briefest flicker of something in his eyes before he refocused on his sketchbook. For all his teasing, there was something about the way his hand went back to the bracelet, like it was a lifeline. I didn’t understand it—but for some reason, I wanted to.

Maybe Antaios Morgan was full of surprises after all.