Page 68 of Before We Were

"Why ‘infinite'?"

"It's to remind you that magic's real, that no matter how old we get, we're surrounded by infinite possibilities. They're everywhere—you just have to be open to seeing them. Even when they're right in front of you."

Her words cut through my defenses. The bracelet becomes more than jewelry—it's a piece of her heart that I don't deserve but desperately want to keep.

"Thank you," she says after a moment.

"For what?"

"For tonight."

"Guess I'm not such a heartless prick after all."

"I never said you were a heartless prick."

"Oh, right, I believe the term was 'royal fucking jackass.'" I keep my tone light, though her words always matter more than I let on.

She blushes and laughs. "God, you really do hang on to every word I say, don't you?"

If she only knew how true that was.

"Well, before you retract your loving description, maybe hold off until you see what I've planned for us next." I can't help grinning at her sudden suspicion.

"No. Absolutely not. No way. No." She shakes her head, hair falling around her face.

"Come on, you know the rules. One for one, and now it's my turn to pick."

She stares me down, considering, then sighs.

"Nate," she says, my name both warning and promise, "you're a royal jackass."

Coming from her, it sounds like the highest compliment I could get.

CHAPTER20

I GOT YOU

NORA

June, 1997

Age 7

The carnival fillsmy nose with sweet promises—popcorn and fried dough mixing with night air that sparkles like Dad's Christmas lights. I'm seven years old now, and even though I'm bigger, everything else still feels ginormous. It makes me feel like an ant in a world built for giants. Jake stands next to me, my partner for the night, while Nate and Ollie wait across from us at the Shoot the Hoops game. My stomach does this weird flippy thing that happens whenever Nate's around.

I tug at my overalls—the ones with the sparkly butterfly patch that Mommy says makes me look"cute as a button."

But standing here next to Nate, I feel small and babyish. I wonder if"cute"is just something moms have to say, like when they pretend your scribbles are masterpieces.

Jake nudges me with his elbow, passing over the ball.

"C'mon, Nora, you're the secret weapon on our team."

"Yeah, secret weapon," Ollie snickers with his annoying big brother grin. "More like a secret disaster."

"Shut up, Ol," I say, but I can't help giggling even as my cheeks burn.

They always tease me like this—not the mean kind that makes you cry, but the kind that reminds me I'm the baby of the group. I squint one eye like Daddy taught me, the hoop looking impossibly far away. I throw as hard as I can, and the ball clangs off the rim.

---