The courtyard was almost empty, the event inside still buzzing with music and voices, but out here the air was cooler, quieter, threaded with the faint hum of the fountain. Damon had only stepped out for a moment to breathe, hoodie pulled tighter against the night. He hadn’t expected to see her.

She was crossing the courtyard with that quick, purposeful stride, blond hair catching the light from the lampposts. The second her eyes landed on him, she stopped—just for a breath—then turned away and kept walking, slipping through the open doors and out into the night air.

He should’ve let her go. Every time they spoke it ended in sharp words. But something—habit, maybe—made his feet follow her.

By the time he caught up, she was at the fountain, barefoot, stepping onto the curved stone edge like it was the most natural thing in the world. She lifted her arms for balance, the night sky glittering behind her.

“You’re going to break your neck,” he called, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.

She didn’t look at him, just smirked faintly. “I’ve got better balance than you ever did.”

Damon huffed a laugh despite himself. “Yeah? Pretty sure I used to beat you every time we played that game on the curb.”

“That’s because you cheated,” she said, turning on the narrow edge, still graceful. Her skirt fluttered slightly with the movement.

They were quiet for a beat, the sound of the water filling the space between them. She glanced down at him, and for a second it felt like years hadn’t passed—that they were still those kids daring each other to jump from one slippery rock to another over the creek.

“You always followed me back then too,” she said suddenly. “Couldn’t let me have a moment alone.”

He arched a brow. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall in.”

“That’s sweet,” she said dryly, though her mouth twitched like she was holding back a smile.

He walked alongside the fountain’s edge as she moved, tilting his head to watch her steps. “You were better at this when we were kids,” he teased.

“And you were less… arrogant,” she shot back, but the sting was softened by the lilt in her voice.

The nostalgia tugged at him, unexpected. He was about to say something—he wasn’t even sure what—when her heel slipped on the slick stone.

Her arms flailed, and instinct kicked in. He grabbed her wrist to steady her, but her weight pulled against him, and the next thing he knew, both of them were tumbling forward into the fountain.

The cold water punched the air from his lungs. He surfaced sputtering, hair plastered to his forehead, his hoodie clinging heavy to his skin.

And she—she was right there. Somehow he’d landed barely a breath away from her, his hand still tangled with hers under the water. Her laugh broke first—bright, unrestrained, the kind he hadn’t heard from her in years.

It was contagious. His own laughter spilled out, shaking through him as he tried—and failed—to push his dripping hair out of his eyes.

“You—” she gasped between laughs, “you were supposed to catch me, not—”

“Not get dragged in with you?” he finished, grinning despite the water running down his face. “Yeah, well, you’re heavier than you look.”

She splashed him in response, sending a wave of cold across his chest. He lunged forward with both hands, sending a counter-splash that caught her in the face. She shrieked, laughing harder, falling back against the shallow fountain floor.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world outside the fountain was quiet—the event inside distant, the night wrapped close around them. Her breathing slowed, her hair floating in the water like pale ribbons.

He realized how close they still were, their knees almost touching under the surface, their laughter fading into softer smiles.