I look up.
West looks down.
One beat.
Two.
His face—
Stunned. Disbelief.
I forget to breathe.
The way the arena tilts—literally.
His hand doesn’t let go.
His other hand comes up.
Both of them on my arms now.
Warm. Solid. Real.
He’s holding me in place.
He’s holding me still.
And for one dizzy second, I need proof.
Proof that I’m actually here.
That this isn’t something my brain manufactured at seven-twenty in the morning because I missedhim too much.
His thumbs press in gently, like he’s making sure I’m real.
My fingers curl into the front of his jacket. I don’t even remember deciding to do that.
Neither of us speaks.
Because if we do, this might shatter.
The arena is deafening around us. The overtime horn is minutes away. People are on their feet.
We are completely still.
Then Grace arrives from behind at full velocity and crashes into both of us.
"OH MY GOSH IT'S ACTUALLY—"
The spell cracks. His hands don't let go.
"Cedar Falls?" I ask. My voice sounds like someone else's.
I take in the clean line of his jaw. The way his hair falls the same — even under brutal arena lights. He looks like himself. Just sharpened.
His slate-gray eyes are locked on mine.
And something in my chest rips open.
