Echoed in the Dark.

Marc Thorne had never spoken about his past.

Not once.

Not even when Penelope had asked him where he grew up. He'd smiled with that effortless charm of his and changed the subject—something like, "Does it matter where you're from, when you already know where you're going?" And he made it sound poetic enough to forget the question.

But not tonight.

Tonight, Marc sat on the edge of the cliff behind Penelope's house—the same place he once told her was his favorite view in the entire town—with his eyes locked on the stars, and something heavy wrapped around his shoulders like a memory too large for one person to carry alone.

Penelope sat beside him, a little closer than usual. She could feel his breath hitch slightly, the way his fingers were loosely entwined but clenched with a tension that had nothing to do with the cold air.

"I grew up alone," Marc said finally. His voice wasn't heavy. It was flat, like he'd said it too many times in his head and finally gave it permission to come out.

Penelope turned her gaze from the stars to him. She didn't speak.

"I don't mean orphan-alone," he continued. "I mean… no real attachments. No birthdays with cake. No holidays with hugs. Just… surviving."

She swallowed. "Marc…"

"I know what you're going to say. But I don't want pity. I'm telling you because you asked why I never talk about my past."

She didn't offer comfort with words. She simply reached over and placed her hand on top of his. Warm. Solid. Quiet.

"I had people," he said, softer now. "But they used me more than they loved me. I got good at pretending I didn't need love. That I didn't care. But it was a lie."

Silence stretched between them, thick but not uncomfortable.

"I don't want to lie anymore," Marc added, looking at her now.

Penelope blinked, and her heart ached in a way she hadn't expected. She'd always seen Marc as confident, cheeky, dangerous in the way beautiful people could be when they knew it. But tonight, he looked like someone who had lived through a storm and still had thunder in his bones.

"You're not alone anymore," she whispered.

A breeze curled around them. He nodded once but didn't say anything.

---

The next day, Marc was back to being Marc—the flirtatious, smooth-talking, jawline-of-an-angel version that had girls staring and boys trying to hate him without sounding jealous.

He met Penelope outside her school gates with two iced coffees, even though it was 10 a.m.

"You don't know my coffee order," she smirked.

"I guessed," he said, offering the cup. "And if I'm wrong, I'll spend the rest of the day groveling dramatically."

She took a sip.

Her eyebrows lifted. "Okay… fine. Lucky guess."

"No such thing as luck," Marc replied with a wink. "Only good instincts."

As they walked, Penelope spotted Scott Rivers across the street, leaning against his motorcycle, laughing with Veronica. His eyes caught hers, and for a moment, Penelope felt the sting of something unspoken between them—something that had grown awkward since Marc had entered the picture.

Scott's smile faltered, just slightly. Veronica said something, pulling his attention back.

Marc noticed. He always noticed.

"You two ever…?" he asked casually.

"No," Penelope said a little too fast.

Marc didn't push it.

---

Later that evening, Penelope stood in front of her mirror, still thinking about the conversation with Marc on the cliff. She touched her reflection gently, wondering how many people really knew each other underneath the performance of everyday life.

She had barely finished tying her hair when Veronica barged into her room.

"Emergency," Veronica declared.

"Oh no," Penelope sighed. "What is it? Fashion? Boy trouble? You burned something again?"

Veronica ignored her sarcasm and flopped on the bed. "Scott Rivers asked me out."

Penelope turned. "Wait—what?"

"He asked me out. Like… an actual date. Not a hangout. Not a flirty text. A real one. With times and locations. He said he wants to get to know me. Not just my body. My soul."

Penelope laughed. "He said that?"

"No, but I could tell."

"Okay. Wow. So what's the emergency?"

Veronica looked at her with panic in her eyes. "What if I like him too much?"

Penelope's laughter softened. She walked over and sat beside her friend. "Then let yourself like him."

"You don't get it, Pen. Every guy I've ever liked—every single one—ended up liking you more."

"That's not true."

"Julian?"

Penelope looked down.

"Sam?"

"…okay, fine."

"Even that guy Leo from the music camp. He literally kissed me and then asked if you were single."

Penelope winced. "That one was bad."

"So, Scott is… different," Veronica said quietly. "And I want him to see me. Just me."

Penelope squeezed her friend's hand. "Then let him."

Veronica blinked away the tears. "Do you think I'm hard to love?"

Penelope didn't even let her finish. "You are one of the most lovable people I've ever met. You're bold, and hilarious, and kind even when you pretend not to be."

"Okay, okay," Veronica sniffed. "I didn't ask for a TED Talk."

Penelope laughed, and just like that, the moment passed.

---

The double date plan was Marc's idea. "Let's level the playing field," he'd said. "Me, you, Veronica, and… the guy with the eyebrows. Scott."

It was too chaotic to say no to.

So that Friday evening, they ended up at "The Velvet Bean," a low-light rooftop café downtown known for its live jazz and mood lighting that made everyone look ten percent hotter.

Marc wore a black button-down that made Penelope forget how to breathe for a second. Scott, as usual, looked like he didn't try at all and still managed to show up looking like a daydream in denim.

Veronica wore fire-engine red lipstick and declared herself a walking sin.

They got a corner booth.

The music played.

Marc ordered wine.

Scott ordered hot chocolate.

Veronica raised a brow. "You're such a child."

"You're drinking from a straw shaped like a flamingo," he replied.

Penelope laughed, nearly choking on her drink.

It was fun, surprisingly. Conversation flowed, jokes were shared, and for once, everyone felt like they were where they were meant to be.

Until Marc stepped away to take a phone call.

And Scott leaned in, looking at Penelope—not in the way he used to, but like he still had something to say that he hadn't yet dared.

"You okay?" he asked her.

Penelope nodded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've just been… quiet."

"Marc told me something last night. Something heavy. It made me see him differently."

Scott's jaw tightened. "You're falling for him."

It wasn't a question.

Penelope didn't answer.

Scott sighed. "I used to think I'd have time."

She looked at him, eyes wide.

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

Veronica returned from the restroom at that moment, breaking the spell. "What'd I miss?"

Scott turned to her, softer now, like he'd switched gears. "You look beautiful tonight, by the way."

Veronica blinked, caught off guard. "Oh. Thank you."

"You always do," he added.

She paused. Then laughed awkwardly. "Careful, Rivers. Keep talking like that, and I might start to believe you."

Scott looked at her for a long moment. "Good. You should."

Penelope smiled behind her glass.

Marc returned, smiling, but his eyes flicked toward Scott with a flash of something unreadable.

And just like that, the moment passed again.

---

But something had shifted.

Later that night, as Veronica and Scott walked alone for a bit, she said, "You really think I'm beautiful?"

He stopped walking. "Veronica, every guy who made you feel like you weren't enough was an idiot."

She looked away. "You don't know what it's like to always be second."

"I do," he said, surprising her.

She turned back. "You?"

Scott nodded slowly. "I know what it's like to fall for someone who never really looked your way. To always be… the other choice."

Veronica stared at him.

And then, softly, she whispered, "You're wrong, though."

He raised a brow.

She stepped closer. "Not every guy ends up loving Penelope."

Scott's breath caught.

Veronica smiled, sadness dancing behind it. "Because maybe… just maybe… one of them stayed."

He looked at her then—really looked.

And the space between them was no longer filled with doubt.

To Be Continued in Chapter 49…