The carnival buzzed with life—laughter, flashing lights, the scent of cotton candy. Casper and Rowan strolled through the crowd, mid-argument, when Rowan suddenly grabbed Casper’s arm.

“Holy shit.”

Casper followed his gaze. There she was, effortlessly pretty, focused on painting a kid’s face.

“I saw her first,” Casper muttered.

Rowan was already running.

“Like hell you did!” Casper sprinted after him—right before Rowan tripped and ate dirt.