We move together like we've done this a thousand times in another life. Like our bodies remember what our minds forgot. Like we've been starving for this exact moment. When we break apart, her eyes are wide, lips parted. Something passes between us—something I don't have words for. Something that feels terrifying and perfect at the same time.

"Nate," she breathes my name like it's something sacred.

And I'm done for.

Completely fucking ruined for anyone else. Then again, I think I always have been because of her.

"Leni," I respond, the nickname falling from my lips as naturally as breathing.

She starts to speak, uncertainty dancing in her expression. "I don't think friends⁠⁠—"

"Len," I cut her off, unable to stop my grin. "I think we're past the just friends thing."

Her laugh is soft and full of promise. For the first time, I let myself see a future—our future—not as something fragile or fleeting, but as something real and possible.

The crowd begins to disperse as the band plays their final notes. "We should probably head out before it gets crazy," I suggest, though leaving this moment feels impossible.

She nods, and I take her hand, our fingers intertwining as we navigate the crowd. The rain starts suddenly—fat drops that quickly turn into sheets of water. By the time we reach the car, we're soaked and laughing, her giggles mixing with the sound of rain on metal.

"Since when does it rain here in July?" she asks, pushing wet hair from her face.

"It doesn't," I say, watching the windshield blur with water. Traffic ahead is at a standstill. "Traffic's not moving. Maybe we should wait it out."

She gives me a questioning look. "Wait it out where?"

I pull out Nick's spare key, offering a small grin. "Nick's got a place about fifteen minutes from here. He said we could crash there if we needed to. I mean… if you're okay with it."

Her fingers brush mine as she takes the key, the contact sending sparks through my skin. After a moment's consideration, she nods. "Let's do that."

As I drive through the rain-slicked streets, the world outside feels distant and dreamlike. Inside the car, it's just us, the rhythm of rain creating our own private symphony. My hand finds hers over the console, and when she interlaces our fingers, it feels like pieces falling into place.

The rain falls harder as we drive into the night, but for once, I'm not running from anything. I'm running toward everything I've ever wanted.

Toward her.

Toward us.

Toward home.

49. Sixty Seconds

CHAPTER 49

SIXTY SECONDS

NORA