"I think Marcus would have a meltdown if you showed up in Cons.”
We both laugh and she rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of a smile there—the same smile that used to make my teenage heart skip beats, now doing dangerous things to my adult one. As she leans against the railing, struggling with one heel, the fabric of her dress makes it impossible for her to bend.
"Ugh, stupid dress. I can't??—"
"Here, I've got it," I offer, kneeling without thinking.
Her foot rests lightly against my knee as I slide the shoe on and do up the buckle. Her dress shifts slightly, the slit parting just enough to reveal the curve of her leg. My fingertips brush against her ankle, and that small contact sends electricity through my veins. I glance up at her, and the world narrows to just this: her catching her lower lip between her teeth, the pulse visible at the hollow of her throat, and the way her hands grip the railing tighter. A faint blush creeps up her neck.
She's mesmerizing—I notice things I've spent my whole life learning to read about her, each freckle and smile, and gesture a thing I know by heart now. I secure the other shoe, my fingers ghosting over her ankle.
"There," I manage, my voice rough. "You're good to go."
"Thanks," she breathes, the word falling from her lips like a secret.
Camilla's entrance shatters the moment. "Let's go! We're going to be late!"
As Nora passes, her perfume—vanilla and something darker, something that reminds me of midnight promises—wraps around me like a noose. Her lips curve in that knowing smile that's haunted my dreams for years.
The car ride is exquisite torture. Not because of Camilla's chatter, but because Nora's bare thigh catches my eye with every streetlight we pass. The emerald silk flows like water over curves I shouldn't memorize. She stares out the window, either unaware or too aware of how she's unraveling me thread by careful thread.
At the country club,Camilla vanishes in search of Marcus, leaving us alone under lights that paint Nora in gold and shadow. The gala's music pulses behind us like a heartbeat.
I catch her wrist, pulling her close enough to count her eyelashes, close enough to feel the hitch in her breath. She stumbles slightly, steadying herself against my chest, and suddenly breathing becomes optional. Her eyes catch the light like diamonds, turning my thoughts to static.
"You're…" The word dies in my throat, inadequate.
She tilts her head, lips curving into that devastating smirk that's both invitation and challenge.
"Do I make you nervous, Nate?" The words drip like honey, sweet and dangerous.
My laugh comes out strangled.
"Speechless," I confess, letting my gaze trace her like an artist memorizing his masterpiece. "You make me speechless. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
"Liar," she whispers, trying to turn away, but my hand slides from her wrist to her waist, claiming this space between heartbeats as ours.
"I wouldn't lie to you. Not about this. Not about anything."
Then I'm kissing her, soft but deep. Her lips part beneath mine with a surrender that makes my heart stutter—she's been waiting for this, too. When she presses closer, fingers clutching my jacket like a lifeline, I groan into her mouth, losing myself in the taste of her. I pull back only when breathing becomes necessary, taking in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips with a satisfaction that burns through my veins.
"Tell me, Nate," she breathes, voice teasing but eyes ablaze, "how are you going to stop yourself from doing that tonight?"
I meet her gaze, letting her see the raw truth of what she does to me. "Who says I'm going to stop?"
A blush paints her cheeks, and when a strand of hair falls across her face, I brush it back, my fingers lingering on her skin. I take her hand, pressing a deliberate kiss to her knuckles.
"I don't want to hide anymore." Her eyes search mine, waiting, so I continue, words spilling out like a confession, "I want everyone to know you're mine, Nora. The future, the distance—we'll figure it out. I'll do whatever it takes. I just need this to be real."
"Nate," she whispers, "this has always been real."
I capture her lips again, desperate now, pouring everything I can't say into the kiss. She tastes like promises, like homecoming, and when her arms wind around my neck, I'm lost.
"I'd love nothing more than to take you home right now."
She laughs softly against my mouth. "Your mom would murder us if we bailed."
"Fine," I sigh, resting my forehead against hers. "I'll behave. Torture myself with admiring you from afar."
