Chapter 25
tino
I didn’t remember a single moment on the way.
Nothing from the moment that Lilah stepped out wearing that dress until we were sitting in some banquet hall, Take Five was winning an award, and Lilah glowed so hard beside me it was a wonder the cameras didn’t pick her up as her own star.
She clapped and cheered and half-hid her face when the camera panned her way, and the whole time I just sat there, pretending to be part of the background while trying not to stare.
It wasn’t even about how she looked—though she’d worn that soft blue dress that made my brain short-circuit—it was the way she looked at them.
The pride in her face, the pure joy. She loved them all, that chaotic pack of her brother and his bandmates, and for a second I couldn’t tell if I was jealous of them or just in awe that she could love so big.
After the show, the band insisted on us coming with them to some after party, and I might have tried to refuse if I wasn’t busy just trying to breathe in a room where Lilah existed like she was right now—glowing, effortless, alive.
Instead, I was walking alongside them into an insane venue that felt like it was miles above the city and fancier than anything I’d ever seen in my life—all glass walls, velvet booths, and dim lighting contrasted with flashing lights.
Music thumped through the floor, bass heavy enough to feel in your ribs, and everyone was laughing in a way that reminded me of when we won an impossible hockey game and were high on adrenaline.
“Smile, Valentine,” Lilah said, bumping her shoulder lightly against mine as we stepped inside. Her voice was raised to be heard over the music, but there was laughter underneath it. “You’re supposed to look like you’re having fun.”
Someone handed us glasses of champagne as we passed, and she took hers with a polite thank you, raising it slightly in a mock-toast. “To pretending.”
I clinked my glass gently against hers. “Our specialty.”
The music shifted to something by Taylor Swift, which made Hudson and Neil sing along at the top of their lungs while their girlfriends laughed.
Luca and Nina tugged Lilah away for a siblings photo, leaving me alone with our champagne glasses.
While she was gone, I caught sight of myself in one of the mirrored pillars—my suit looked idiotic, my tie a little crooked, and my hair a total mess, even though it had looked nice when we left the house.
Despite the events I’d gone to with my brothers, I’d never felt like I belonged in this world and seeing myself now, I couldn’t help but feel that it must have been obvious to everyone who could see me.
I handed off our champagne glasses to a server moving by, then tugged at my tie.
Initially I was going to loosen it like how I wore it at school, but I ended up taking it off completely, along with my suit jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of my shirt.
At least now I didn’t look like I was cosplaying like someone I wasn’t.
Lilah returned a moment later, flushed from laughing, and she practically fell into me as she grabbed my arm.
I stiffened instinctively, torn between wanting to make sure that she didn’t fall over in her way-too-tall shoes and not wanting to overstep her boundaries or make her think I was trying to make a pass on her.
She didn’t notice my mental dilemma at all as she straightened back up—brushing her hand along my chest for a moment too long—and smiled widely at me.
“Dance with me,” she said.
I blinked. “I don’t dance.”
“That’s not true,” she said. “You danced at the Christmas thing last year.”
“That was a slow dance,” I said. “This—” I gestured to the pulsing lights, the crowd moving like a single living thing “—is chaos.”
“Exactly.” Her eyes gleamed. “Come on. It’ll sell the story.”
“There’s not even anyone from school here.”
She ignored me as she just tugged me into the crowd.
For the record, she was terrible at dancing too—too enthusiastic, too unbothered—but she looked so happy that I didn’t care. Every time she laughed, her hair slipped loose, brushing my neck. Every time she reached for me to steady herself, her fingers caught mine and didn’t immediately let go.
I could feel myself smiling—not because I had to for the image, but because Lilah was smiling, and that alone made my lips turn up.
At one point, I leaned down to shout something in her ear, and she turned at the same time. We almost collided—barely half an inch between us—and she froze, her breath catching against my collar.
“Sorry,” I said, though I didn’t move.
Her eyes flicked up. “Don’t be.”
We might’ve stayed like that forever if Luca hadn’t appeared beside us, his bow tie undone, hair a mess, grinning like a maniac. “You two look disgustingly happy. Stop that.”
“Go away,” Lilah said sweetly.
“Gladly. But only if you promise not to make me an uncle tonight.”
“LUCA!”
He vanished before she could throw anything at him. I was still laughing when she turned back to me, muttering under her breath about brothers being the worst. Her annoyance was cute.
It was around then that she started limping, just a little, and tried to pretend she wasn’t.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Fine,” she said, too quickly.
“Sure about that?”
“Completely fine.”
“Because that’s your third wince in thirty seconds.”
She made a face. “Fine, you caught me. My feet are plotting my death.”
I glanced down at her shoes again. I really had no clue how she was able to walk in them at all—they looked more like a torture device than something to walk on.
“Want to sit?” I offered,
“Can’t. If I sit, I’ll never get back up.”
I looked around—crowded tables, no empty seats, a hallway that probably led somewhere quieter. “Come on.”
“What—”
Before she could finish, I bent and scooped her up—one arm under her knees, one steady behind her back.
She yelped, her hand grabbing at my shirt. “Tino!”
“Relax,” I said, grinning. “You said you couldn’t walk.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean—this!”
“Too late,” I said, grinning. “Damsel mode activated.”
Her laughter came out breathless, half scolding, half delighted. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Strong, though,” I said, shifting my grip as we started toward the hallway. “That should count for something.”
People turned to stare—a few laughing, a few definitely taking pictures—but she didn’t seem to care as much as she pretended to. She just sighed and buried her face against my shoulder, her breath warm through the fabric of my suit.
“Put me down before someone writes a headline,” she mumbled.
“You said you couldn’t walk.”
“I’ll crawl.”
“Romantic.”
We made it out to the patio—wide glass doors, a string of lights over the railing, and the city stretched below us like spilled glitter.
The noise of the party faded as we slipped out through the glass doors and into the cool night.
The patio overlooked the city—strings of lights overhead, soft music still echoing faintly from inside.
I finally set her down carefully, one hand steady on her waist as she slipped her shoes off, holding them in the crook of fingers by their straps.
“See? Didn’t die,” I said.
“Barely survived,” she said. Her shoes dangled from one hand; her other hand rested briefly against my arm as she found her balance.
The night air hit cool and clean after the heat inside.
Her cheeks were flushed, a few curls falling around her face.
She tucked one behind her ear and looked up at me, smiling in a way that felt like a secret.
Her dress fluttered slightly as some wind blew by and the blue of her dress caught the glow from the lights.
“Crazy night,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “They were all so happy. Luca, especially.”
“Yeah,” I said, leaning on the railing beside her. “He deserves it.”
“He really does.” She smiled faintly. “He’s worked for this forever. All of them have.”
“It’s nice how proud of you are of him,” I said. “And that you’d do all this to come see him get an award. He’s lucky to have you.”
That made her look at me again, something unreadable flickering across her face. “You really think that?”
“Yeah,” I said, meaning every word. “Anyone would be.”
That earned me a look—one I couldn’t quite name.
It was softer than her usual teasing, something almost searching.
We stood there, the air sharp with salt and wind, the world spinning a little slower.
She was so close I could see the gold flecks in her eyes, could smell the faint sweetness of her perfume, could feel the heat radiating from her bare skin.
And then she smiled—soft, almost shy. “You’re staring again.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Can you blame me?”
Her lips parted slightly, like she might answer, but the sound of the doors opening behind us broke the spell. Someone laughed inside, a burst of noise spilling out and then fading again.
She sighed. “We should probably go back in.”
“Probably.”
But neither of us moved right away.
Instead, she turned her hand over and brushed her fingers against mine—casual, easy, but it lingered. “You make this whole fake-dating thing pretty believable, you know.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She smiled, faintly. “Maybe too believable.”
My heart kicked up a notch. “Guess we’re just that good at pretending.”
“Guess so,” she murmured. Then, almost like she hadn’t meant to say it: “You really are, you know.”
“What?”
“Good.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. She looked up at me again, eyes softer than I’d ever seen them, and for a second, I thought she might kiss me. Or maybe I was just hoping too hard.
But then her phone buzzed, sharp and bright in the quiet.
She blinked and looked down. “It’s Nina. They’re calling the cars.”
“Right.”
She sighed, slipping her shoes back on, wobbling a little before steadying herself on my arm. “Guess that’s our cue.”
“Guess so.”
We walked back inside together. The light felt too bright now, the noise too sharp. Someone shouted for Luca; someone else asked for a photo. Lilah smiled through it all, her fingers brushing mine like an accident—though I wasn’t sure either of us believed that anymore.
When the car pulled up out front, she slid into the seat beside me, exhaustion finally settling into her shoulders. By the time we hit the highway, she’d fallen asleep, her head drifting toward my shoulder, her hair brushing my sleeve.
I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe. Because the truth was simple and terrifying and absolute: I was gone. Completely, stupidly, hopelessly gone.
And she still had no idea.