The car doors open, revealing the girl dancing in a rose-colored drop-waist dress under strings of multicolored lights. She’s now portrayed by a real person, her amber curls peeking out from a red hat that conceals half her face. Behind her, a band appears with trumpets, trombones, and banjos playing a jazzy tune, their rollicking music contagious. More dancers fill the street, luring audience members out of their cars.

A guy sweeps me into his arms, leading me in a swinging circle. I’m so busy concentrating on not getting my feet tangled with his, I immediately lose sight of Garrett. The dancer twirls me around and transfers me to another partner. We keep circling, switching partners and hands in an elaborate do-si-do, until Chloe and I cross paths. When our hands connect, she slips something small and round into mine. Without making eye contact, I pass it from my right hand to my left and slip it into my skirt pocket. In that same moment, someone grabs me by the waist.

My breath catches in my throat.

“Dance with me,” Nash says, spinning me to face him. He leads us to the edge of the crowd. “You’re leaving? Did you get what you came for?”

The ring is heavy in my pocket, and I feign innocence, my guard up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re very mysterious,” he says, holding me close. “We don’t have much time, so I’m going to come right out and say what I’m thinking. Run away with me.”

“Have you lost your mind?” I sputter.

“You have a cache, right? I know you do,” he says without pause. “Believe me, whatever you’re up to is going to go wrong. He’s no good.”

I find Garrett in the crowd, dancing with the ghost girl.

“We could make our old dreams come true,” he says.

“Except I don’t know who you are,” I say, my eyes still on Garrett. In my heart I know I can’t leave him. I want to see the heist through. I pretend that’s the only reason.

“You don’t know who he is, either.”

His hands are hot on my back.

“I’m Nash Harrison,” he says. “I know that doesn’t mean anything, but I want to tell you everything.”

He played me just like he’s playing Nicki. His journal that first day in Self-Awareness, touch being his favorite sense—it was all so he could make me feel connected to him. Social engineering. I get it now. I have no reason to believe anything he says. Trust no one.

I push him away. “My old dreams are dead. I’m happy. Safe.”