He flips through pages, golden-chestnut hair falling just right across his forehead, those ridiculous eyelashes making him look like an indie film lead. "You were quite the hit at the party last night," I tease.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, every girl there was practically gawking at you."

He laughs genuinely. "Gawking, really? Who uses that word?"

"Just calling it like I see it."

He leans close, mock-serious. "Someone's keeping a pretty close eye on me."

I roll my eyes, fighting a smile. "Just an observation."

"Is that jealousy I detect?"

"Jealous? Of what?"

"You said it, not me," he smirks.

His teasing infuriates and comforts me in that uniquely Jake way, proof some things never change.

Stepping into the bright street with my new book pressing against my chest feels like an anchor.

"So, where to?" I ask, already knowing.

"You know where."

"Corrigan's?"

"Bingo. If we hurry, we'll beat the rush for Cinnabons."

His hand finds mine, and suddenly we're running-laughing down the sidewalk, grief falling away like shed layers. In these moments with Jake, I'm just Nora again.

The bakery envelops us in warmth and spice. Jake orders our usual, and we claim our spot by the window, sunlight pooling on worn wood.

"I've been thinking," he starts, fidgeting with a napkin. "We should make a summer list."

"A summer list?"

"Yeah, all the things we want to do. Things we want to revisit.” His voice carries determination, a promise to reclaim joy after everything that's changed.

"I love that."

He grabs a pen. "Sixteen things each. One for every summer. And the seventeenth? We'll keep secret until we do it."

"Deal."

We write and laugh until we lose track of time. Jake's phone interrupts the fun and his face falls while checking it. "Ah, shit. Mom's car."

"Go," I urge, masking disappointment. "I'll stay and read."

"You sure?"

"Positive. See you at home."

He ruffles my hair before dashing out, that familiar gesture sending warmth through me. Alone with my list, the pen feels heavy, but my heart is lighter.

This summer, despite everything, we'd make it count.

Before I can escape into my book, two figures approach. The girl catches my attention immediately—vibrant orange and pink outfit flowing perfectly, long black hair framing striking features. Her companion rocks a retro yellow bomber covered in patches, platinum buzz cut stark against deep skin, carrying quiet confidence.

"Oh, my God, hey!" The girl's voice carries. "You're Nora, right? From the party?"

I nod cautiously. "Yeah. How did you⁠⁠—?"

"Everyone there knows who you are now."

Great. So much for staying invisible.

"I'm Camilla,” she beams, claiming the seat across from me. "And this is Marcus."

Marcus nods, grinning as he takes Jake's vacant spot. "Just an FYI, Camilla has no filter or personal boundaries. But it's nice to meet you."

I smile despite myself. "Likewise. I think."

His laugh is warm. "Well, you definitely made the night interesting."

"Glad someone enjoyed the show."