Page 36 of Hidden Echoes

And I love wearing beach hats.

I love the jacuzzi and I also love eating waffles for breakfast.

I discovered my favorite color is yellow, and I love wearing black sweatshirts because they’re so comfortable. So when I found a pair of yellow plaid pants and a black top, I knew I had to have them. So I bought them.

Another cool thing: I have a shopping card. Well, Zane gave it to me.

Apparently, he’s a very famous tattoo artist in demand by celebrities. I saw it on TikTok—another cool thing that distracts me sometimes.

Zane bought me a bunch of dresses, but I prefer his clothes, which makes him sigh in defeat. But he never discourages me from wearing them. It’s cute.

He still avoids me like the plague, but I’m okay with it. He needs time to get used to the fact that he’s mine now.

It’s not just me who’s learning.

Zane was right. Los Angeles is like another world, something I’ve never seen before.

The lights, the sounds, the people…everything seems to move at a frenetic, almost disconcerting pace.

The city reminds me of a mirage, something you reach for but can never quite touch.

And maybe that's what I like, something I can't quite define. I don't know what possessed me to share so many things with Zane during the trip. He's a stranger, in a way, but he listens to me like no one else has ever listened to me.

Maybe it’s the way he looks at me, like he sees through the layers, or maybe it’s because I’ve never had this chance before—to be heard.

Part of me is grateful, and part of me? Part of me is confused. The echo in my mind is louder than ever.

“So you’re a tattoo artist,” I say as Zane makes me waffles.

Ever since we arrived in Los Angeles, he’s made sure to stock the kitchen with this delicious treat, as well as ice cream.

I had even tried ice cream, but Paulina had always been strict about my diet and hadn't allowed me to eat much of it. In fact, she hadn’t allowed me anything at all.

"Yeah, just let me know if you ever need another tattoo covered up,"Zane says, placing the waffles on my plate and I devour them in no time.

Then he looks at me and I can see an apprehensive look in his eyes. I’ve come to recognize it more easily since he apparently uses it a lot when he’s around me.

“Are you really okay? To go out and see people.”

“Yeah, I had some people at the brothel. I’m super used to them.”

“Oh,” he comments as if he doesn’t quite know how to respond to my statement and I stand up.

I position myself on his lap, placing one leg on either side of his waist and his eyes widen in surprise “Mia—” he murmurs as I approach.

My eyes meet his and I trace my tongue along the corner of his mouth, cleaning the tail that was left in the corner. “Sweet.”

“Mia, you can’t do this,” he says, squeezing my waist tightly, but I look at him in confusion.

“You had a little bit of syrup on the corner of your mouth.”

“A warning would be enough.”

“I just wanted to help,” I look down and his expression softens as he tugs my chin towards him.

“Are you going to help everyone like this?” he murmurs the question in a genuine tone and I smile.

“No.” My teeth are now on full display and I run my hands through his hair. “Just you. Because you’re mine.”

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