Page 84 of Scattered Glitter

And I would have followed him everywhere.

The Strip fades away replaced by a memory.

Ace holds up a card between his fingers, the seven of spades, grinning at me with that lopsided smirk of his. We’re crouched on the roof of a small house, far above the bustling crowd. The lights of Phoenix are spread out beneath us, the muted sounds of traffic and chatter drifting up like a distant echo.

“Ready to see some real magic, Trouble?”

“Real magic?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to hide my smile. “You mean like making doves appear out of thin air?”

“Nah, I leave that to the amateurs. This is the good stuff.” Ace snaps his fingers, and in an instant, the seven of spades becomes an ace of hearts. It happens so fast that I barely catch it. One second, the card is there, and the next, it’s an entirely different one.

“How the hell did you do that?” I ask incredulously, laughing as I grab his hand to try and figure out the trick. But he pulls away, his grin widening and becoming impossibly more lopsided.

“It’s called the snap change,” he says, holding the ace just out of my reach. “You gotta be quick, Trouble.”

I shake my head, pretending to pout. “Show-off.”

“C’mon, I bet you could learn it. You’re good with your hands, afterall.” He throws me a wink, and I roll my eyes in return, knocking my shoulder against his.

We both look down at the crowd bustling below us on the street. The lights from a nearby food truck cast a glow, illuminating faces as people pass in front of it.

“See that guy?” Ace nods toward a guy standing on his own by the truck. “What do you think he’s up to?”

“I dunno…” I squint, trying to figure it out. “He looks kinda… nervous?”

“Exactly. Look at his hands.”

The guy’s hands are in his pockets, but I can see the way his fingers twitch, moving restlessly even though they’re hidden.

“When people are nervous, their hands usually give them away,” Ace confides. “They fidget, they touch their face or their neck. It’s like they’re trying to comfort themselves without even realizing it.”

“Okay, so he’s nervous. Why?”

“Could be a lot of things. Look at where he’s standing. He’s not in line, but he’s close to it. Like he’s thinking about getting food but can’t quite make himself do it. Maybe he’s waiting for someone. Or maybe he’s indecisive.”

I glance back down at the guy, noticing his eyes flick toward the food truck, then away again. I have no idea what that’s supposed to tell me.

“Reading people is all about noticing the little things,” Ace says softly, almost as if he’s sharing a secret. “The way they move, where they look, how they hold themselves. Confidence is in the shoulders. When someone’s sure of themselves, they stand tall. When someone’s nervous, they shrink down, make themselves smaller. It’s all right there if you know where to look.” I scratch my leg, taking it all in. In a way, it makes sense. “People are always giving themselves away whether they know it or not.”

“I’d love to read people like you can.” I sigh, making Ace chuckle.

“You’re already good at it, you know.” His ice-blue eyes meet mine. “You need to trust yourself more. Trust what you see.”

I look back at the crowd, watching the guy by the food truck. Ace is right. His shoulders are hunched, his gaze uncertain. He’s waiting for something or someone.

“He’s waiting for someone he’s in love with.”

“How can you tell?” I ask, not taking my eyes away from the stranger.

“See the way he keeps looking around but not moving? His hands aren’t nervous. They’re restless, like he can’t wait. And his shoulders, they’re tense, but there’s hope there. Like he’s bracing for something or someone.”

The guy’s fidgeting intensifies then, and I notice his eyes keep darting around as if scanning for a familiar face. “When you’re waiting for someone you love, everything in you is focused on finally seeing them again. You’re restless, and your heart races, but it’s all anticipation. Because when they finally show up, you know it’ll change everything. You can’t contain that kind of excitement.”

My heart squeezes as I glance at Ace, wondering how much of this he’s speaking from experience. Before I can respond, Ace sighs, almost like he’s relieved. “There she is.”

I follow his gaze as a woman steps into the glow of the food truck. When her eyes land on the guy, his whole body shifts, his shoulders relax, his hands come out of his pockets, and a smile forms on his lips. She walks toward him, and the moment they meet, you can see the quiet, unmistakable connection between them.

Ace leans back, a satisfied look on his face. “Told you.”

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