“Oh, holy shit.”
Yeah. That about covers it.
The courtyard glowsunder silver moonlight and enchanted lanterns that bob in the air like sleepy fireflies. Warm light spills from arched windows, the scent of cinnamon-spiced cider and roasting sugar root drifting into the evening. Somewhere, string music fills the air—too perfect to be played by students. It feels…suspended, like the world’s holding its breath in anticipation of tonight.
My fingers tremble slightly against the old stone banister as I descend the winding steps into the courtyard, the dress clinging to my every breath. I’ve never worn anything like it. Neverbeenanything like this.
For one moment, I let myself feel it.
The wind tugs at the gossamer skirt, catching the sheer panels and lifting them like smoke. The spider-silk neckline shimmers against my collarbone, and the fitted bodice—tight and shadowed like armor—hugs my waist as if it knows exactly who I am.
I’m not sure if I look more like a fairytale princess or the villain that burns her way into the story halfway through and steals the crown.
Honestly? Either works.
Students gather around the edge of the courtyard in clusters—laughing, whispering, showing off whatever glamour-stitched outfits they’d scraped together or conjured. But the moment I step down the final stair, the conversations near me pause. Just a second. Just long enough for the hush to prickle across my skin.
And then?—
“Lindsay?”
I turn and find Nolan.
He’s standing by the drink table in what can only be described asscholarly hot. His usual button-up is layered under a navy vest embroidered with tiny runes that glint every time he shifts, and his sleeves are rolled up just enough to show the lean strength of his arms. His hair is a little mussed, as though he’d tried to smooth it down and gave up halfway. His tie is slightly crooked.
It’s adorable.
But it’s his expression that makes my heart stutter.
He looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe.
“I—uh,” he starts, then clears his throat. “Wow.”
A laugh bubbles in my throat. “Is that your official reaction?”
He steps toward me, slow and reverent, eyes scanning me like he’s trying to memorize every line. “No. My official reaction is that you look like moonlight got jealous and turned into a person just to mess with everyone’s self-esteem.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks. “That’s…actually kind of poetic. Whoareyou tonight?”
He shrugs, sheepish and proud all at once. “Just a guy who feels very, very lucky to know you.”
I tilt my head. “You didn’t say I looked dangerous.”
“Oh, you do,” he murmurs, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But in the way where I’d still walk into the flames for a chance to dance with you.”
I swallow. Hard. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I might be falling for him. Not just crushing, but head first into love. Damn.
The music shifts—something low and lilting—and the crowd begins to part for the first dance. But in this moment, it’s just him and me and the silver hush between heartbeats.
“Care to make good on that offer, Porter?” I ask softly, holding out a hand.
He takes it.
TWENTY-SEVEN
NOLAN
Her fingers slideinto mine like they were always meant to.
