19. Cotton Candy And Daisy Bracelets
CHAPTER 19
COTTON CANDY AND DAISY brACELETS
NATE
As Nora flicks through the CD tracks, her finger pauses on "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers, and the intro bursts through the speakers. The spark in her eyes—those carefree, exhilarating sparks I've missed—makes my chest tighten. She cranks the volume high, belting out lyrics slightly off-key but perfect in its imperfection. Eyes closed, head thrown back, wild hair catching streetlights like copper and gold, she's completely lost in the song.
It's pure, unfiltered Nora, raw and beautiful, and devastating in ways I can't let myself think about. I catch myself staring like a man dying of thirst, and she snaps her eyes open, suddenly self-conscious. She shifts to face me, knees up, her posture radiating a vulnerability that makes my hands itch to reach for her. When our eyes lock, something electric passes between us, heavy as thunder before a storm. She bites her lip, hesitating, and there's this honesty in her expression she rarely shows anymore, not since everything went to hell.
For a moment, I forget why I need to keep my distance, why I can't let myself have this—have her. Her voice fills the car, rough and perfect and painfully beautiful. I manage a laugh as she powers through the chorus, trying to shake off the intensity before I do something monumentally stupid like tell her the truth.
Just enjoy the moment, Nate, don't fuck this up.
The car stops at the carnival, and she's laughing that infectious laugh that makes my heart stumble. We step out into a wash of neon blues, pinks, and yellows, the air filled with games, shouts, and distant laughter—a perfect cover for the chaos in my head. I scan the crowd instinctively, searching for any sign of Farrah or anyone else who could shatter this fragile peace, who could remind Nora why she shouldn't trust me.
Nostalgia hits unexpectedly as we weave through the crowd. Suddenly I'm ten and she's seven, her tiny hand pulling me toward the carousel, her favorite. Her laughter was a clear bell back then, making everything else fade. Before I learned how to break things, before I became someone who could hurt her.
Now, as she tugs my arm toward a booth, the feeling surges back like a tide. The carousel looks smaller, more weather-beaten, but still blinks rhythmically with familiar lights. The air is thick with fried dough and cotton candy, sharpening the ache of nostalgia.
"Where to first?" Nora's voice pulls me back. Her face, lit by neon, looks so untroubled it makes my chest hurt.
"I'll let you lead the way.” I gesture ahead, ignoring how my fingers tingle with the urge to reach for her hand.
We drift toward the cotton candy stand, and she stops, grinning mischievously.
"Really? Cotton candy? First up?" I chuckle, affection roughening my voice.
"You said lead the way." Her smile lights up her whole face, cracking my heart wider.
I hand over money for the pink cloud of sugar, and her genuine smile makes it feel like I've given her the world. We pick at it as we wander, the familiarity of our shared past easing the tension between us.
"Remember that summer we tried to sneak into the haunted house?" Her laughter is soft, tinged with nostalgia.
"How could I forget? You freaked out and we bolted through the emergency exit,” I tease, the memory of her trembling hand in mine still burning in my palm.
She bumps my shoulder, feigning indignation, the brief contact electric. "I didn't freak out."
"Nora, you screamed so loud they almost called the cops."
"They called the fire brigade instead." Her laughter rings out, clear as summer rain.
We approach the Shoot the Hoops game, and Nora's eyes light up with a dangerous spark I know all too well.
"You think you can still beat me, Nathaniel?" The challenge in her voice makes my pulse quicken.
"I don't think—I know." I take the basketball from the attendant and pass it to her, our fingers brushing briefly. "Ladies first."
She takes the shot. It bounces off the rim.
I sink my shot perfectly.
"Lucky shot," she grumbles, though her mouth twitches into a smile.
We trade shots back and forth. I make three more while she manages two but misses her final one. The competitive energy between us builds with each throw.
"Oh, did I just win?"
"You don't play fair, Nate Sullivan." She crosses her arms, her tone playful yet accusing.
"You have no idea,” I smirk, watching her cheeks flush pink.
"Do you want the truth?" I lean closer. "You've always sucked at this game."
She gasps and slaps my arm. "I used to kick your ass at this when we were kids!"
"To be fair, you and Jake were both equally terrible. Ollie and I used to let you win to avoid the meltdown on the way home."
Her eyes narrow. "Has anyone ever told you you're like the human version of period cramps?"
I laugh, surprised by the genuine joy of it. She grins, knowing she's scored a point.
"Cheer up, Leni. You've got a whole year to practice."
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."
"Oh, right, I believe the term was 'royal fucking jackass.'" I keep my tone light, though her words always matter more than I let on.
She blushes and laughs. "God, you really do hang on to every word I say, don't you?"
If she only knew how true that was.
"Well, before you retract your loving description, maybe hold off until you see what I've planned for us next." I can't help grinning at her sudden suspicion.
"No. Absolutely not. No way. No." She shakes her head, hair falling around her face.
"Come on, you know the rules. One for one, and now it's my turn to pick."
She stares me down, considering, then sighs.
"Nate," she says, my name both warning and promise, "you're a royal jackass."
Coming from her, it sounds like the highest compliment I could get.