The air thrums with anticipation—a tangible energy that matches the rapid beating of my heart. String lights crisscross above us like fallen stars, casting warm shadows that dance across Nora's face. The scent of summer surrounds us: sunscreen, carnival sweets, and that indefinable electricity that comes before something momentous.

"Come on." I reach for her hand, and the moment our fingers intertwine, everything shifts into focus. "We can get closer."

She follows without hesitation as I guide her through the crowd. Bodies move around us like waves, the bass reverberating through the ground and into our bones. The setting sun bleeds across the sky in watercolor strokes of amber and crimson, turning the world golden.

We find our spot near the center, where the energy of the crowd feels most alive. The fading sunlight catches her features, highlighting details I've spent years trying not to memorize—the constellation of freckles across her nose, the flecks of gold in her green eyes, the way her lips curve just slightly upward even when she's lost in thought.

The band starts playing, and she moves with an effortless grace that makes my throat tight. Her body sways to the rhythm, completely lost in the music, free in a way that makes me envious and captivated all at once. She throws her head back, laughing at something, and the sound cuts through the noise straight to my core.

I tell myself to focus on the music, to let it drown out the constant awareness of her presence. Instead, I catalog every detail: how she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's concentrating, the way her shoulder brushes against mine with each movement, how her scent—something fresh and uniquely her—mingles with the summer air.

What the fuck am I doing?

I shouldn't have brought her here, shouldn't have created this moment where everything feels possible and impossible all at once. But when she turns to me, eyes bright with excitement, I can't regret it.

She leans close, her breath warm against my ear. "This is amazing!"

I manage a smile, hoping she can't see how she affects me. "Yeah, it is."

Even surrounded by thousands, she's the only person who feels real.

The band plays on, each song weaving through the crowd like electricity. When they announce their final song—“Hear You Me”—my heart stutters.

Jim Adkins steps up to the mic, his voice carrying over the hushed crowd. "You've been amazing tonight. We've got one last song for you. If you're here with someone special—a friend, a sibling, maybe even someone you love—hold on to them."

The opening chords float through the air, delicate and haunting. Without thinking, my hands find her hips, and she stiffens for just a moment before melting back against my chest. The contact sends electricity through my veins, and suddenly breathing becomes a conscious effort.