Chapter 34: A Friendly Night

The next evening, Ramirez announced he was cooking dinner. A small welcome-goodbye-see-you-soon party for them.

"Real dinner," he clarified. "With people. Leah's in town for work—I already called her. And my girlfriend's coming. You two are going to be social and pretend you're normal human beings for a few hours."

Seth looked at Hallie. Hallie looked at Seth.

"Please?" Ramirez's expression was unexpectedly vulnerable. "I've missed you, man. We all have. Just... one night. Pretend everything's okay."

How could they say no?

Leah arrived first.

She'd changed in five years—sharper, more confident, with the kind of professional polish that came from a real job in a real city. But her eyes were the same, quick and observant, and they took in Hallie and Seth in a single comprehensive glance.

"You two," she said slowly. "Together!"

Then she let out a loud happy scream that nearly sent Hallie hiding behind the coach, if it weren’t for Seth standing right behind her and blocking her escape.

“I knew your love was something else, something from fairy tales and children’s stories.” She was smiling like a kid in a candy store. “You make me believe that there’s still hope for me too.”

Her expression from dreams turned serious.

“Tell me the whole story, with all the steamy details. I want to know how you to got back together!”

"It's complicated," Seth said.

"It's always complicated with you." But she was smiling, and when she hugged Hallie, it was genuine. "I'm glad you're okay. Both of you. Whatever's happening."

Ramirez's girlfriend, Maria, arrived next—warm and funny and clearly crazy about Ramirez in a way that made him softer, more human. She asked no questions about why Seth and Hallie looked like they'd been through a war, just accepted them as friends of her boyfriend and made them feel welcome.

Dinner was chaos.

Exactly the kind of warm, noisy, wonderful chaos that Hallie had forgotten existed outside her memories. Ramirez held court at the head of the table, spinning stories about their high school days with the dramatic flair of someone who'd told these tales a hundred times and knew exactly which details to exaggerate. Leah countered each one with her own version—more accurate, she claimed, and twice as embarrassing for everyone involved. Maria, Ramirez's girlfriend, contributed observations that had the whole table howling, her dry wit cutting through the nostalgia like a knife through butter.

And through it all, Seth held Hallie's hand under the table, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin. Grounding her. Reminding her that she was still herself, even here, even now, surrounded by people who'd known them before everything fell apart.

Hallie let herself laugh, let herself feel, let herself exist in this moment without the weight of shadows and Slayers and impossible choices pressing down on her. For a few hours, she was just Hallie—the girl who'd tutored Seth in math, who'd sketched gowns in the library, who'd fallen in love with a boy who looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

"So remember the barbecue at Coach Morrison's place?" Leah asked, reaching for her wine glass. Her cheeks were flushed pink—this was at least her third glass, and she'd lost count somewhere after the second. "Those burgers were absolutely incredible. I swear, I've never had another burger as good as those ones. I've spent years chasing that high and nothing ever compares."

Ramirez groaned in agreement. "Don't remind me. Coach's wife still won't share her seasoning recipe. I've tried everything—bribery, charm, even offered to do their taxes for a year. Nothing."

"Some mysteries were meant to remain unsolved," Maria observed sagely, earning a laugh from everyone.

Leah waved her hand dismissively, returning to her thread. "But that's not even what I remember most about that day." She looked directly at Hallie, her expression warm and slightly unfocused from the wine. "The memory of that day stayed with me for a long time. Through college, through starting my career, through all of it. And you know what I remember most?"

Hallie shook her head, a small smile on her face.

"I remember the way you put Mr. Sanders in his place." Leah's eyes sparkled with admiration. "Seth's dad, I mean. He came over to talk to you—or maybe to interrogate you, let's be honest—and you just... stood there. Calm as anything. And when he made that comment about you being a distraction, you looked him right in the eye and told him you were the reason Seth was still eligible for his scholarship." She laughed, shaking her head in wonder. "I think about that moment all the time. Every time I had to take an important exam in college, every time I had to face a difficult client at work, every time someone tried to make me feel small—I thought about you. About how you stood your ground without raising your voice, without backing down, without letting him see even a flicker of fear." She paused, suddenly looking almost shy. "I could say... you've become my role model, honestly."

Hallie felt heat flood her cheeks, turning them a bright shade of pink that probably clashed spectacularly with her pale complexion. Beside her, Seth chuckled softly, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

"She's always been brave and smart," Seth offered, squeezing her hand under the table. "She just didn't let other people see that. Kept it hidden away like one of her sketches."

"Until you came along and dragged it into the light," Hallie murmured, shooting him a look that was equal parts fond and exasperated.

"Exactly!" Leah beamed, apparently missing—or choosing to ignore—the undercurrent of complexity in their exchange. "You saw her and brought her out of her shell. That's the thing, isn't it? You two—" She gestured vaguely between them, nearly knocking over her wine glass in the process. Maria rescued it with practiced efficiency. "You're the perfect love story. High school sweethearts, separated by fate, reunited against all odds. It's like something out of a movie!"

Hallie and Seth exchanged a glance—one of those wordless communications that had developed between them over days of running, fighting, surviving together. There was so much Leah didn't know. So much none of them knew. The shadows, the Empire, the war that was brewing just beyond the veil—none of that fit into the neat narrative Leah was constructing.

But for this moment, sitting around a table with friends who loved them, Hallie let herself pretend.

"The perfect love story," she repeated softly, testing the words.

Seth lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his brown eyes warm. "The only kind worth having."

Leah made a sound of pure delight, pressing both hands to her heart. "You two are going to make me cry, and I've spent too much time on this mascara to ruin it now."

"Then stop being sentimental and pass the wine," Ramirez said, reaching across the table. "Some of us are trying to get emotional in private."

The laughter that followed was warm and genuine, filling the small apartment with something that felt almost like hope. Hallie leaned into Seth's side, let herself be held, let herself believe—just for tonight—that happy endings were possible.

For a few hours, the darkness faded.

For a few hours, she was just Hallie—the girl who sketched, the girl who loved, the girl who'd somehow found her way back to people who cared.

Later, when the others had gone and Ramirez was washing dishes, Seth found her on the balcony.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Better than okay." She leaned against him, watching the city lights blink in the darkness. "Thank you. For this. For finding him, for—"

"Thank Ramirez. He's the one who made it happen."

"I will." She turned to face him, her grey eyes meeting his brown ones. "But thank you for bringing me here. For not giving up on me. For—" She gestured at everything. "All of it."

Seth kissed her—soft and sweet and full of promise.

"Always," he whispered.

And for the first time after five years, Hallie believed him.