Her head snaps up at the nickname, something tender passing through her eyes.

I used to call her that when we were kids—Little Leni, the girl who could light up my darkest days. She's still that same force of nature, equal parts chaos and magic.

"Whatever,” she huffs, but her smile gives her away.

"Pick out a prize," I suggest, nodding toward the counter.

"Oh yay, a pity prize, how generous."

"It's not a⁠⁠—"

"I'm messing with you," she interrupts, touching my arm. The contact sends a jolt through me, and I wonder if she feels it too.

Something catches my eye.

"Shit, remember those?" I point to a collection of bracelets.

Nora pauses, recognition softening her features.

"Oh, my God, I'd completely forgotten about those."

"You spent a whole summer making them, handing them out to everyone."

"How do you remember that?" she asks softly.

Because when it comes to you, I remember everything.

I shrug, though every moment with her is carved into my memory.

"I remember a lot of things. You turned our living room into a bead factory. Said they could bring joy to someone's bad day."

She blushes.

"You know what, I want one. You pick it though."

I choose a bracelet that reads "Fearless" and slide it onto her wrist. The simple touch sets my pulse racing, but I force myself to pull away before the moment turns awkward.

"You never made one for me," I say, watching the bracelet settle against her skin.

"That's because you were too cool back then."

"I was not."

"Were you really gonna wear a bracelet with daisies and smiley faces?"

"If you made it, I'd have." The truth slips out before I can stop it.

The carnival worker cuts in. "You guys still have some tickets left. Wanna grab something else?"

"Still think you're too cool?" Nora challenges.

I glance at my all-black outfit and laugh. "Not tonight."

"Close your eyes," she commands.

I hesitate but comply. A minute passes, then two.

"Did you ditch me?"

"Just wait. Almost there."

Her hands close something around my wrist, the touch sending electricity through me. "Okay, open."

I look down to see “infinite" spelled out in beads.

"Can't say I never made you one now," she says, proud of her surprise.

"Why ‘infinite'?"

"It's to remind you that magic's real, that no matter how old we get, we're surrounded by infinite possibilities. They're everywhere—you just have to be open to seeing them. Even when they're right in front of you."

Her words cut through my defenses. The bracelet becomes more than jewelry—it's a piece of her heart that I don't deserve but desperately want to keep.

"Thank you," she says after a moment.

"For what?"

"For tonight."

"Guess I'm not such a heartless prick after all."

"I never said you were a heartless prick."