This Beautiful Chaos, Chapter 4

The Great Wall of Megan

The night had settled into that perfect kind of quiet, the kind where it felt like the world had taken a collective breath. The wine was long gone, the pizza box sat empty and forgotten between us, and the weed had turned us both into a mess of giggles and tangents that spiraled into conversations about everything and nothing all at once.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much, the kind of laugh that left my cheeks aching and my stomach sore. But now, the laughter had faded into something softer, something unspoken.

Evan was lying back on the blanket, his head tilted up to the stars, and I watched the way his chest rose and fell, his fingers drumming absently against the edge of the fabric. He wasn’t trying to fill the silence with words or jokes. He was just… there, comfortable in the stillness, and for some reason, that made my chest feel tight.

I stayed sitting, my knees pulled up to my chest, hugging them loosely as I laid my head on my knees, looking over at him. A light breeze rustled the leaves above us, and I could hear the faint laughter of someone walking their dog in the distance.

“So,” he said finally, looking over at me, breaking the quiet, his voice low and teasing. “Do I get bonus points for the picnic, or are you gonna pretend this was just okay?”

I glanced down at him, raising an eyebrow. “Bonus points for effort. Maybe even creativity. But you lose points for the deep dish.”

“Ah, the eternal pizza debate,” he said, grinning as he sat up, leaning back on his elbows. “We’ll work on that. I’m a patient man.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Patient, huh? Is that why you texted me five minutes after I gave you my number?”

“Hey, I was being efficient,” he shot back, his grin widening. “Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

The warmth in his voice made my chest ache a little more, and I glanced away, biting my lip.

“You’ve got walls, you know,” he said suddenly, his tone soft but deliberate.

“Excuse me?” I asked, my head snapping back, looking back at him.

“Walls,” he repeated, sitting up straighter now, his fingers brushing his knees. “Big, thick, fortress-level walls. You’re basically the Great Wall of Megan.”

I rolled my eyes. “And you’re basically a guy who’s watched too many rom-coms.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, smirking. “But I’m not wrong.”

There was a challenge in his tone, playful but deliberate, and for a moment, I didn’t know whether to snap at him or tell him to shut up.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” I asked, crossing my arms like I wasn’t secretly panicking at how close he was getting. Not physically, but emotionally, in that way that made my chest feel tight and exposed.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “But I think I’m getting close. You wanna let me in, or are you gonna make me keep guessing?”

I stared at him for a long second, trying to figure out how the hell someone so chaotic, so young, could make me feel like he’d known me forever.

And then he leaned in. Not fast, not cocky, but slow enough that I could stop him if I wanted to.
But I didn’t.

His lips brushed mine. Just barely, like he was waiting for permission. And when I didn’t pull away, he pressed a little harder, warm and soft and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t thunder or lightning or anything explosive. It was quiet and steady, like the moment you take a deep breath after holding it for too long and finally feel your chest loosen.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and I realized my hands were in his hair, holding him there like I was afraid he’d disappear.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, but my throat felt tight. “Yeah,” I managed, my voice cracking just enough to make him grin.

“Good,” he said, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “Because I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment you grabbed my belt buckle.”

I laughed, shoving him lightly, and the tension that had been suffocating me dissolved into something lighter, warmer.

“Evan,” I said after a moment, my voice quieter now. “You don’t know what you’re getting into with me. I have a lot of muchness.”

His smile softened, and he tilted his head like he was studying me. “No, Megan, I think I do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I thought that maybe, what he was saying was true.