Chapter 4

The air in the private nook of the event space was thick, heavy with the lingering scent of salt, stale beer, and the sweet, cloying aroma of caramelized sugar that had drifted in from the boardwalk outside. It was late, the kind of late where the music from the main hall had finally wound down into a low, rhythmic thrum that vibrated against the floorboards. I sat perched on the edge of a velvet-upholstered banquet chair, my legs crossed at the ankles, watching him. He was leaning against a pillar, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a half-empty glass of amber liquid. The single pendant light above us cast long, dramatic shadows across his face, highlighting the stubble along his jawline and the intensity in his eyes. We had been talking for hours, or at least it felt like hours. The noise of the carnival games—the sharp *ping* of balls hitting wooden blocks, the distant shrieks of laughter from children chasing balloons—faded into a white noise backdrop. The saltwater taffy stand near the entrance had closed its shutters, leaving behind a sticky residue on the pavement that smelled of artificial fruit and nostalgia. But here, in this secluded