Chapter 27 Nolan
TWENTY-SEVEN
NOLAN
Her fingers slide into mine like they were always meant to.
Warm. Certain. Real.
It’s stupid how many times I’ve imagined this—how many nights I’ve stayed awake, playing out some ridiculous scenario where she looks at me like I’m something more than the awkward academic with perpetually crooked glasses. But I never got the details right. Not even close.
Because nothing could’ve prepared me for this.
She looks like moonlight and midnight secrets, like the kind of dream you don’t dare speak aloud in case it disappears.
That dress clings to her curves like it was spun from shadows that learned how to worship her.
And her eyes—gods, her eyes—are bright and sharp and amused all at once, like she knows the effect she’s having on me.
And still, she let me take her hand.
I guide her gently into the center of the courtyard where others have already started to pair off. My pulse thunders in my ears, but I keep my grip steady. I can be steady—for her.
“Are you sure about this?” I murmur, low enough only she can hear.
Her head tilts, eyes glittering. “You offering me an escape clause, Porter?”
“No.” I swallow, clearing the knot in my throat. “Just making sure I don’t wake up and find out I dreamed this whole thing.”
She laughs softly, stepping closer, her other hand resting against my shoulder. “You didn’t.”
Then I’m moving—awkward at first, trying not to step on her, trying not to think about where my hands should go or how close is too close—but she leans in, and somehow I find the rhythm.
The world fades to the warmth of her skin, the way her breath hitches when I spin her, the sound of her laughter like a spark catching fire in my chest.
I’m not the guy girls like her choose. I know that.
I know I’m the backup plan, the friend in the shadows, the one who gets remembered kindly after the story ends. But right now, she’s looking at me like I’m the chapter she wants to read again.
And I’m selfish enough to hold onto her with both hands for as long as she’ll let me.
“I think you’re trying to seduce me with your fancy footwork,” she says, smirking.
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.” Her smile softens. “I like this side of you.”
I blink. “What side?”
“The confident, charming, actually pretty good at dancing side.”
“Oh, that’s just an illusion,” I say, dipping her with more ease than I thought possible. “I’m shaking on the inside.”
She laughs again, and God, I’d bottle that sound if I could.
For tonight, I let myself be the guy she dances with under the Harvest Moon.
Tomorrow, the prophecy, the danger, and the secrets will come crashing back in.
But for now? For now, I dance.
The music slows, shifting from festive to something softer. Sweeter. Notes linger longer now, stretching like the hush before a wish. Or a kiss.
Her fingers curl just slightly against mine as though she feels it too.
I pull her a little closer. Not all the way—not yet—but close enough to feel the warmth of her breath when she exhales, to see the way her lashes lower and lift again as she meets my gaze.
And damn if it doesn’t undo me.
She looks at me like maybe…just maybe…this isn’t one-sided.
Like maybe she feels it too.
Her free hand moves to rest just over my heart, and I swear it stutters under her touch.
I want to kiss her.
The thought crashes in loud and immediate, no slow build, no logic to stop it.
I want to kiss her.
And I think she might let me.
Her lips part slightly, breath catching just as I lean in, drawn by the impossible gravity that is her. The song coming to a close.
But before I can close the distance completely…
“Hope I’m not interrupting.”
The voice is silk-draped steel. Too smooth. Too much cruelty dressed up and hiding behind fake niceties.
I don’t have to turn to know who it is.
Lindsay’s hand tightens reflexively in mine before she eases away, the spell of the moment breaking away from us.
Auron steps into view, hands in the pockets of his midnight-blue coat like he owns the damn courtyard. His golden hair is immaculate, his smirk carefully calculated, and his eyes—his eyes are locked on Lindsay like she’s already in his arms.
The way he looks at her makes something cold twist low in my gut.
“Auron,” Lindsay says slowly, not completely letting me go.
He tilts his head. “Lindsay.” His gaze flicks to me, expression already bored. “Porter.”
I square my shoulders but say nothing. No point. He doesn’t really see me.
He never sees me. He's probably only acknowledging me now so he doesn't look like the massive conceited asshole he is.
“You clean up well,” he says, eyes raking over her dress like it’s something he deserves to see her in. I scoff under my breath, she's always beautiful.
But she doesn’t shrink under it. She doesn’t blush or flinch or play coy. She stands tall. Matching him.
Like he’s a storm she already knows how to survive.
Auron gestures toward the middle of the dance floor, like the entire Revel is just background noise to him. “I was hoping to steal a dance. Unless you’re otherwise engaged?”
I feel her glance. A single second, but I feel it everywhere. Then she speaks. Cool and steady.
“I told you I’d save you a dance. I keep my word.”
Not an invitation. Not even a shred of warmth.
But not a rejection either.
Someone calls out to him, and he waves absently before bringing his attention back to Lindsay. He smirks, smug and knowing. “I’ll come collect it soon, then.”
And then he’s gone, boots silent against the stone. But not without a backward glance. Not without that stupid, smug flick of a smile aimed straight at me.
Lindsay turns back to me, slower now.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“You don’t have to be,” I manage. But it lands hollow in my chest.
Because I can’t stop wondering what might’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up. If the song had stretched just one verse longer.
If I’d kissed her.
If she’d kissed me back.
Tamsin finds me near the edge of the courtyard, two fizzy green drinks in hand. She shoves one toward me and mutters, “You’re gonna need this.”
I barely manage to grip it before I see why.
Auron’s cutting through the crowd like he owns it. All poise and polished charm, like every spotlight knows how to find him.
He stops in front of Lindsay, and she turns to face him. Even from this far, I see the way they look at each other.
Her dress looks like it was stitched out of secrets and spun shadow. And him, with his stupid perfect posture and that molten-gold confidence of a Bloodborn radiating off him as though he actually does own the whole world.
Together, they look like they belong. A queen and her matching king.
And God, it hurts.
“She’s just being polite,” Tamsin says, low and fierce. “She would rather dance with you. This is just…courtesy.”
But I can’t tear my eyes away. Not as Auron bows—actually bows—and holds out a hand like he knows she’ll take it.
She hesitates. Only for a second. But then she does.
Slips her fingers into his like they were always meant to fit.
My chest tightens.
“They look…” I don’t finish the thought. Can’t.
Tamsin does it for me. “Yeah. Regal. Disgusting, right? And all wrong.”
He twirls her onto the floor, and the courtyard parts for them like a page in a storybook. Magic flickers along the stone, catching the thread in her dress, and she glows. Not literally, but—she glows.
And he looks at her like she’s what he's always wanted made flesh.
“They don’t belong together,” Tamsin adds quickly. “He looks at her like she’s his ticket to a throne. You look at her like she’s home.”
My fingers tighten around the drink I haven’t touched. I can’t look away.
Because even if she’s only dancing with him out of obligation—just a promise she’s keeping…
It doesn’t stop how badly I want to be the one still holding her.