Page 193 of Scattered Glitter

Not sitting in this damn car.

Even if it’s a very, very nice car.

“Then what are we nervous about?” He grins. “We’re here together, right? Maybe we can just… let it be that simple.”

Nothing about this, aboutus, issimple.

“Fine.” I shake my head with a smile.

“That means you can relax.”

“I am relaxed.”I’m so not.

His gaze lingers, thoughtful, and for a second, I think he’s going to press. But then he says, “All right. I hope you like burgers.”

“I’d love some fries.” I don’t think I can eat a whole damn burger with how my stomach is feeling right now.

“Fries it is.”

We pull up to the drive-through of a little burger joint, the kind of place with checkered floors and a buzzing neon sign. He orders for us, and when he hands me the takeout bag, the warm scent of onion rings and crispy fries fills the car, and I relax somewhat.I can handle this.

Instead of turning back toward the city, he heads in the opposite direction, driving us farther out. “Let’s get out of here, away from the neon lights and the crowd.”

“Okay,” I say, feigning casual, even though my stomach flips.

Of course, why not spend even more time driving?

As we drive, I realize I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would. I’m not sure if it’s Nicholas’s presence, Koen’s hypnosis, or that something else settled in me last night. Maybe even something healed a little. Either way, I’ll take it.

The buildings slip away, giving way to open stretches of desert under the growing darkness. The road gets quieter, the city lights fading to a faint glow in the rearview mirror.

“Okay, where exactly are we going?” I ask, casting him a sidelong look. “Are you… a serial killer or something?”

He glances over at me, his expression faux-shocked. “No.”

I raise an eyebrow, giving him a doubtful look. “Isn’t that exactly what a serial killer would say?”

“Fine.” His lips press together as he fights back a smile. “What would someone whoisn’ta serial killer say?”

I purse my lips, pretending to think deeply. “Probably… not that, either.”

He laughs, a warm, low sound, and I realize I’m smiling like an idiot.

“Just trust me,” he says, a glint of mischief in his eye. “I promise you’re not about to be the next true crime documentary.”

When he finally stops the car, we’re out on a quiet stretch of desert, far enough that the city lights are a soft glow behind us. He gets out, comes around to open my door, and holds out a hand to help me out.

“Come on,” he invites, nodding up to the wide-open sky. “I come here sometimes when everything’s too much. It sounds dumb, but I enjoy seeing the stars out here, where they’re actually bright.”

“Are you into stars?” I reach into the bag, pulling out a fry and popping it in my mouth as I take in the view, leaning back, the hood of the car warm against my legs.

Nicholas does the same as I offer him the bag. “No, I just like the feeling they give me… like everything’s bigger than all the stuff that weighs me down. We’re on a rock floating in space, you know? Somehow, it makes things… feel lighter.”

The sky is dotted with stars, more of them winking into view as the last bit of light fades. It’s beautiful out here, quiet and peaceful. The kind of place I could stay forever if I could keep that feeling of insignificance tucked away in my pocket.

We stand there, sharing fries and onion rings in a comfortable quiet, the crunch of each bite punctuating the sounds of the desert night around us. When the bag is empty, Nicholas takes it from my hands, giving me a small smile before walking around to toss it back into the car. He returns, his movements unhurried, and leans against the front of the Porsche next to me, his shoulder close enough to brush mine.

I’ve never been one for silence. Usually, it unnerves me—I feel like it’s waiting to lay bare every truth I’d rather ignore. With him, the silence doesn’t feel threatening. It’s almost peaceful. Just a quiet that feels close to comfort.

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