The Ferris wheel reached the top and slowed, pausing as the world seemed to hold its breath with us. Tino’s hand lifted, unsure, then settled against my cheek. His thumb brushed just under my eye—barely there, warm despite the cold—as if he needed to make sure I was real.
“Yeah?” he asked softly.
I nodded. He leaned in, slow enough that I could stop him if I wanted to. I didn’t.
When his mouth first brushed mine, it was light and searching. My lips parted on instinct, and when he kissed me again, firmer this time, it sent a jolt straight through my chest. I grabbed the front of his coat, knuckles tight in the fabric, and he made a soft sound against my mouth before deepening the kiss. The cart swayed faintly beneath us, throwing us closer, and his other hand slid to my waist to keep me steady. I could feel the pressure of his thumb there, the rise and fall of his breath, the way he adjusted when our noses bumped, like he was just as focused on getting this right as I was.
The lights below blurred into color and motion, but everything else sharpened—his mouth warm despite the cold, the scrape of his gloves as they shifted at my jaw, the quiet urgency in the way he kissed me back when I leaned in harder.
We kissed at the top of the Ferris wheel, the cold air biting and the lights blazing below us, and for the first time since all of this had started, nothing felt fake at all.
When the wheel started moving again, we didn’t pull apart right away. His forehead rested against mine, our breaths uneven, his hand still at my waist like he hadn’t realized he was holding me. The cart swayed beneath us as the night rushed backin slowly—the noise, the height, the glow—but the kiss stayed with me, bright and solid, as we were carried back down into it.
When he finally pulled back, he was smiling—not careful or uncertain, but genuine.
“So,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Real.”
“Real,” I agreed.
Below us, the carnival kept spinning, unaware that anything had changed at all—but for once, that felt exactly right.
CHAPTER 29
tino
If there was sucha thing as being too happy, I was dangerously close to it.
The Ferris wheel had barely stopped spinning before I started grinning like an idiot. My cheeks hurt, my fingers were half-frozen, and there was probably snow in my hair from when I helped her out of the cart—but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Because I was holding her hand. For real this time.
“Where to next?” I asked, my breath fogging the air. My other hand was stuffed into my jacket pocket, but I didn’t let go of hers even as I tried to point toward the row of game booths.
She pretended to think about it. “Hmm. I could go for a funnel cake.”
“Or,” I said, tugging her closer, “we could test our luck at the ring toss. I hear the prizes are life-changing.”
“Life-changing?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow.
“Totally. There’s a three-foot-tall purple bear that would look great in your dorm.”
“You think you can win me that?”
I smirked, leaning down just a little. “You doubt my athletic ability, Turner?”
“I just don’t think you know how to do any sport that doesn’t involve blades on your feet.”
I laughed and pulled her toward the booth anyway. The air smelled like sugar and pine and something buttery, and the snow that was starting to fall clung to my hair. When the carnie handed me the rings, I cracked my knuckles dramatically, muttering, “For honor. For glory. For Lilah.”
“Please don’t embarrass yourself,” she said, crossing her arms to hide the fact that she was smiling so hard her face must have hurt.
“Need I remind you I already won you that penguin tonight?”
“Beginner’s luck. You won’t be able to manage it twice.”
I tossed the first ring. It bounced off the bottle’s neck and landed on the ground.
“Warm-up,” I muttered.
