We leaned against a railing near the edge of the quad, watching people pass. The lights reflected in his eyes, and for a moment, the world felt smaller. Quieter.
“This is… nice,” he said after a while.
The word carried more weight than it should have.
“Yeah,” I agreed softly. “It is.”
I wanted to say more. Something honest. Something that acknowledged the strange, fragile thing hovering between us. But the words tangled in my throat, heavy with everything we hadn’t talked about yet.
The night was still ours, stretched wide and glittering, and I wasn’t ready to rush it. Instead, I tucked the penguin more securely under my arm and let Tino lead us through the rest of the carnival, my thoughts racing even as my body stayed perfectly in step with his.
We tried one more game—one Tino lost spectacularly, sending the ball ricocheting off the edge of the platform—and then another, where I managed to win a packet of candy canes that we immediately opened and shared, the sugar sharp on my tongue. We walked slower now, our shoulders brushing more often, laughter coming easier.
At one point, a group of girls ran past us, shrieking with laughter. One of them clipped my shoulder and I stumbled forward. Tino reached out instinctively, steadying me with hands on my waist, while I rested my hands on his shoulders to stay upright.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I glanced over at the girls who had run past and felt a jolt of surprise as I realized one of them looking back was Eva—the first girl who had gushed about Tino and I being a couple back at the party a couple of weeks ago. She only glanced at me for long enough to mouth a “sorry” then continued on with her friends, without making any sort of comment or look about me and Tino.
She didn’t care about what we were doing anymore.
And more importantly, I realized, I hadn’t even been faking anything for this whole evening.
Every time I’d leaned into Tino, every time I’d let him take my hand, every time I’d imagined kissing him—none of that tonight had been fake.
This was love. I was in love with Tino. When on earth did that happen?
“Let’s go on,” I blurted.
He followed my gaze and hesitated. “You sure? That thing looks… questionably safe.”
I smiled at him, the decision steady in my chest. “Trust me.”
That seemed to be enough. “Always.”
The line had shortened. The lights outlining it glowed brighter now against the dark sky, the metal structure groaning softly as it rotated. The carts swayed gently at the top, silhouetted against the stars. We joined the line, standing close as it inched forward. The higher the wheel turned, the louder my heartbeat became. By the time it was our turn, my hands were cold for reasons that had nothing to do with the weather.
The attendant waved us in. Tino helped me up into the cart, steadying me by the elbow before climbing in himself. The safety bar clicked into place, sealing us into our small, swaying compartment.
The wheel began to move.
At first, neither of us spoke. The ground drifted away beneath us, the carnival lights blurring together as we rose. The higher we went, the quieter it became, the sounds of the quad fading into a distant hum. It meant that all I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding in my ears instead as I realized what I was about to do.
Now or never, Lilah.
“I can’t believe the plan worked,” I said. My voice came out much quieter and timid than it normally was and I cleared my throat. “I mean, everyone has been so unphased by us all night.”
I glanced over at Tino, not quite sure what I was expecting. He wasn’t looking at me, though. He was staring at the bright Christmas lights strung across the campus, and for a moment, I thought he hadn’t heard what I said.
Then he said, “Well, I guess that’s that, then. It’s over now.”
The words were like the worst punch to the gut I had ever felt, which only made me even more certain of what I was about to do. I couldn’t live without him. I didn’t want to live without him. And I hoped that he felt the same about me.
“I don’t think it’s time to end it yet,” I blurted.
After a beat, Tino spoke again, carefully. “Does that mean… you want to keep fake dating?”
The question landed exactly where I knew it would. I looked out over the lights for a second, pretending to think, letting the moment stretch. Then I turned back to him and said, “Actually, I thought this time we could try it for real.”
For a heartbeat, he just stared at me. Then the biggest smile in the world crossed his face. He looked a kid on Christmas morning.
