Page 52 of Scattered Glitter

He runs his hand over my back. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime,” I tease. “Seriously, Ace, you’re amazing at so many things. Don’t beat yourself up over this hypnosis stuff.”

There’s a thoughtful look on his face when he pulls back. “I guess. I just want us to have the best act Vegas has ever seen.”

“We will. Between your sleight of hand and my charm, they’ll never know what hit them.”

His smirk returns, slow and confident. “Your charm, huh?”

“Absolutely,” I say, lifting my chin with mock arrogance. “I’m delightful.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

We settle down on the worn steps, back-to-back, leaning on each other, while I pull out my match case, striking one with a flick of my thumb. The flame flickers, casting a warm glow against the deepening evening. I roll the lit match between my fingers, feeling the slight warmth until it becomes too hot, and I blow it out, leaving the scent of sulfur lingering briefly in the air.

“You know…” I say after a while. “Even if hypnosis is a bust, I think we’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I confirm, letting my head fall against the back of his. “Because we’ve got each other. And that’s more than enough.”

“You’re right.” I hear the smile in his words.

“I usually am.”

He laughs. “Charming.”

“Told you.”

“Thanks, Nova.”

“For what?”

“Believing in me,” he whispers.

“Always.”

“Wake up.”

My eyes snap open, and my mind is instantly a riot, torn between desperation to go back and confusion about where I am.

Ace.

The memory was so vivid. His voice, his smell, the feel of his hand all cling to me, and for once, I cling right back.

It felt too real, too alive, nothing like the blurred-out dreams I always have of him. The magnitude of it presses down on me. It takes everything in me not to let it show or let anything invade the gift of experiencing space with him, even if our time is long gone. I force myself to blink, shake it off, and push his memory away, even if I feel a lump in my throat.

Taking in reality, I clench my fists at what I find, what I suspect.

Did I say anything?

And why now?

Why didn’t his mind games trigger this memory when we were at Euphoria? Probably because it was all shock and adrenaline then. But now? Now, I feel almost comfortable.

“What did you do?” I launch the question—the demand—at Koen. I feel utterly exposed like I’ve been forced to reveal something private while also having no idea what he might have done to me while I was basically out of it. “What did you say?”

Koen stands there, looking at me questioningly. “Nothing, really. I just wanted to see if I’d be able to send you into a trance while you were still bickering with me. And I was successful. But you should have still had some sense of your surroundings.”

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