My breath hitches, and I stare at him, unsure what to say. The air is thick with palpable tension and I’m afraid to break it, afraid of what all of this means. In a few months, I’ll be leaving NYC behind and hopefully running off to California. I should be worrying about the film competition, I should be worrying about my life, with my parents watching over my shoulder and my dreams on the line.

I shouldn’t be worrying about Emmitt Ramos, a known heartbreaker. I can’t let myself get caught up in his flirtations—but is that what this is? The look in his eyes is earnest, unfaltering, and his words resonate deep inside me, echoing and echoing and echoing.

“Mina,” Emmitt whispers. “I—”

The Ferris wheel jerks, our position in the sky shifting back a few feet. My body sways away from Emmitt’s, giving me a chance to take a deep breath.

When I look back at Emmitt, there’s a rueful grin on his face. I open my mouth to ask what he was going to say when he reaches into his pocket, pulling out something small and rectangular.

A flame blinks into existence, and I realize it’s a lighter.

Emmitt looks at me, and the stars are alive in his dark gaze. “Make a wish.”

I blink slowly, the heat of the fire warm against my face. “A wish?”

He nods, still watching me evenly.

I lower my gaze to the flame, watching as it flickers in the light wind. “You know it’s a lighter, right? It’s not going to blow out.”

A low chuckle escapes his lips. “Love, you can absolutely blow out a lighter.”

“What?” I examine the lighter more closely. “Really? Are you sure?”

He lifts it to his own mouth and blows. The flame vanishes in an instant, before he lights it again and holds it out to me. “Well?”

I raise my hand, touching the lighter with hesitant fingers. “Is this some kind of special lighter?”

“Mina,” Emmitt says, exasperated. “Make a wish.”

I sigh, but a faint smile touches my lips as I close my eyes. What do I wish for? What can I ask of the universe?

I think of the weight in my chest, the heaviness on my heart. I think of my parents looking at me in disappointment, of our school constantly losing the Golden Ivy student film competition. I think of Anam looking at me with tears in her eyes, of Rosie looking at me with quiet anger in hers.

I think about everything I want, and everything I know I will never have.

I should wish to win the competition. It’s all I’ve wanted for the last year. It’s the one thought that consumes my every waking moment. It’s the only thing that makes sense.