His soft laugh briefly fills the air—until Farrah's sharp approach slices through it, her blonde hair a bright flag of warning in the carnival lights. Flanked by Shay and Harlow, her gaze cuts to our intertwined hands with surgical precision. I withdraw mine, the contact suddenly scalding, just as her stormy expression lands on us.

"I thought you weren't coming tonight?" Farrah's voice drips with venom disguised as honey, her eyes glinting as she looks at Nate like she's marking her territory.

Nate doesn't miss a beat, cool as winter frost. "Plans changed."

Farrah's piercing eyes shift to me, sharp and assessing. "I thought carnivals weren't your scene," she sneers, her voice laced with condescension.

"Changed my mind.” He shrugs, his indifference stoking the fire in her eyes.

Feeling the tension rise like mercury, I interject, "I'm gonna grab something to drink." I edge away, hoping to escape the brewing storm. Girls like Farrah had a way of making simple nights feel like walking a tightrope over shark-infested waters.

But my retreat halts when Nate says, "I'll go with you," his words falling like a gauntlet between us and Farrah's fury.

I realize this night is about to become much more complicated than a simple fear of heights.

Farrah's arms cross over her chest like a shield. "We're not done here," she snaps, voice tight with promised retribution.

Nate's response cuts through the carnival noise. "Yeah, we are actually."

His dismissal sends a shiver racing down my spine. I've witnessed this kind of possessive drama before—it never ends well. I make my way through the crowd, the sticky night air thickening around me. Nate catches up, his footsteps falling into sync with mine.

"I'm sorry about that," he murmurs, voice tinged with concern.

I nod, forcing a smile that feels as artificial as the carnival's neon glow. "It’s fine."

Another familiar voice cuts through the chaos like a firework.

"Nora!” Camilla bounds over, her energy infectious as she wraps me in a tight hug. "I saw Jake before and he said you weren't coming?”

"Plans changed," I repeat Nate's words.

We chat, but a sudden sight catches my eye—a figure in the distance, eerily familiar, partially obscured by the crowd. Everything in me freezes solid. He looks just like Evan—Evan the guy who has haunted every nightmare for the past year, whose shadow lurks in every dark corner.

No, it can't be him.

He's not here.

He can't be.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memory. I've tried so hard to erase that night. But what the mind tries to forget, the body always remembers, like muscle memory of a dance you never wanted to learn.