"She didn't talk about it. Believe me, Mom tried. I tried. But she just shut down completely. Then I heard some guy made a move at a party, and Claire, her best friend, got jealous."

Something sharp twists in my gut. "What do you mean, made a move?"

"From what I heard, he kissed her, and Claire caught the act. Claire was obsessed with this guy and dragged Nora to the party."

My fists clench at the thought of someone touching her let alone kissing her.

"But you know Nora. She's not the random hook-up type. Let alone do that to her friend."

"What was his name?"

"Uh… Eddie? Something with an E."

Cold fury builds in me, wound tight enough to snap.

"Wait, no I think it was Evan. Some lacrosse prick. Definitely not her type." He smirks. "And before you ask, no, I didn't get involved. That's not my thing, and she asked me to stay out of it. Beating people up… that's more your role in her life."

Anger rises from somewhere primal. I don't know what to do with this possessiveness clawing at my chest. The thought of her with someone who doesn't see her like I do makes my blood boil.

We pull up to Camilla's house and Ollie kills the engine.

"Coming in? Or just gonna brood?"

I laugh sharply. "Lead the way."

Even before entering, I feel her. Her laugh carries through the house, wrapping around me. She has different laughs for every emotion, just like songs for every mood. This one tugs at something deep in my core. She's everywhere, woven into every fiber of my existence. No matter how far I drift, there's always this pull drawing me back.

I'm forever ruined when it comes to her. Trying to escape her would be like tearing out a piece of myself.

"The fun has arrived!" Ollie announces, drawing every eye his way—except mine.

I only seek hers. Green and locked on me, like always.

The moment our gazes meet, everything shifts. A spark, a surge of heat straight to my chest. That's how it has always been with us. I can find her in any crowd in a heartbeat. Our eyes connect, and I feel it again—that pull, that silent confession. The kind that makes me believe, in some twisted way, we were meant to find each other. She looks away, but not before I catch the flush in her cheeks, a soft rosy hue I know I put there.

"You're staring," Marcus's voice cuts in, and I realize he's appeared beside me. I have no idea where Ollie has gone, or how long Marcus has been standing there.

"No, I'm not," I mutter, dropping into a lounge chair.

Marcus grins knowingly. "Sure. You'd have to be blind not to see the way you look at her."

"I'm not," I snap.

"Then why are you blushing?" His smirk deepens.

"I don't blush."

"For a pretty boy, you're pretty dumb sometimes."