The park was quiet under the blanket of night, the hum of crickets replacing the earlier chaos of kids and joggers. Finneas had already packed his things, but something about the stillness of the evening made him linger. He found a bench under a flickering lamp and pulled out his cards to practice some tricks again.

The Spring Card trick was his focus tonight—cards flowing from one hand to the other in a seamless, almost liquid motion. His fingers moved on instinct, precise and fluid, each card obeying his every whim.

He was so absorbed in the rhythm of the trick that he didn’t notice someone sitting beside him until he heard the faint rustle of fabric. Glancing up, Finneas caught sight of her—eyes fixed on his hands, a quiet fascination etched on her face.

“Caught me mid-practice,” he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he flicked a card into the air and caught it with ease. Her gaze lifted to meet his, curious and warm, and for a moment, the quiet night felt alive again.

Maybe a little show-off should do the trick.