Val's pov
The mall always felt colder on weekdays. Maybe it was the overzealous AC, or maybe it was just me, buzzing with nerves. Two days from now, we had the Winter Inter-Sport Championship, and every corner of my brain was trying to keep me calm, but Emma... Emma had other plans.
"Can I get it, please? Please please pleeease, Val! I promise I won't ask for anything else for the rest of the year!"
She was holding a unicorn-themed smart watch that probably cost more than my entire skate outfit. The kind of thing that would flash pink hearts and make her feel like a princess-secret agent.
I glanced at the price tag. I could afford it. That wasn't the problem. But this was Emma. The girl who, last week, tried to fake a toothache just to get a marshmallow shake at midnight.
"I said no," I told her gently, kneeling beside her. "Because if I start buying you things every time you flash those puppy eyes, you'll grow up thinking life works that way. And it doesn't."
She pouted so hard her lip could've tripped a skater.
"But it's my birthday soon," she mumbled.
"I know, munchkin." I kissed her forehead. "And I've already got something planned. But not this. Not today."
Before she could pout harder, I heard my name.
"Val?" A voice I hadn't heard in...months.
I turned.
And there he was—Andrew.
Andrew Leclair. My boy best friend. My summer partner-in-crime. The only boy who could tell when I was faking a smile just by looking at my shoelaces.
His hair was messier than I remembered, that curly, soft brown that always fell into his eyes. Hazel eyes—almost golden under the mall lights. Still the same freckled nose, the same easy smile, except now it came with height and a damn jawline. When did he grow up?
"Andrew?" I blinked. "What the—what are you doing here?"
"I'm here for Em's birthday." He gave Emma a dramatic bow. "Surprise, little Miss soon-to-be six"
Emma squealed and ran to hug him. Great. I was officially third-wheeling my own sibling.
"But you didn't tell me you were visiting," I said, arms crossing.
"I wanted to surprise you too," he said, casually slinging an arm over my shoulders like old times. "Plus, I heard you needed backup. You looked like you were about to cry over a glittery watch."
"Shut up." I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched into a smile. "It's good to see you."
We walked around for another thirty minutes, grabbed Emma's birthday decorations, and finally convinced her to stop asking for a life-sized plushie horse. It was nearing dusk, and Emma was starting to droop like a tired tulip.
"Want pastries?" I asked.
"You know I do!" she chirped.
"Then let's go to Nocturne Café."
Nocturne was our spot. A little cozy café tucked into the side of the mall, barely noticeable if you weren't paying attention. Warm lights. Window booths. The best strawberry mille-feuille in town. And Emma's favorite rainbow croissant.
We pushed the door open, and a tiny bell rang overhead.
And then I saw him.
Theo.
And beside him, Avinav.
Theo Dodge was sitting like he belonged in a Vogue spread. Blondish dark hair falling carelessly over his forehead, a thick knit hoodie making him look annoyingly huggable, his white skin glowing under the warm café light. His eyebrows were perfectly shaped—naturally so, which made it unfair. His lashes were long—long. Like, I-need-those-in-my-life long. Like I-could-pluck-them-and-make-a-career-out-of-selling-them-as-luxury-extensions long.
And those eyes. That greenish-brown thing his eyes did—the kind of color that shifted when he looked your way. Warm, then cold. Soft, then stormy.
He looked up.
And the room shrunk.
Theo looked...good. Like a fictional love interest that walked straight out of a book and into a café to ruin your ability to think straight. Baggy clothes that somehow still made him look put together. Handsome in a way that made my brain itch. The kind of handsome that made you stupidly think: yeah, I could have his children.
"Val!" Avinav waved. "You're here!"
Dammit.
"Hi." I tried to keep my tone neutral, but I knew my voice gave me away. It always did.
Avinav stood and motioned to the empty seats across from them. "Sit with us! Who's your friend?"
I turned to Andrew. "That's Andrew. He's—"
"Her childhood soulmate," Andrew said, smirking.
Theo's jaw clenched. I saw it.
We sat.
And then Avinav's phone rang. He glanced at it, groaned dramatically, and muttered, "I swear if Coach tells me to change the warm-up set again—hold that thought, be right back."
He left.
And didn't come back.
The atmosphere was suddenly thick. The kind of silence that wasn't quiet—it was awkward. Sharp.
I kept my gaze down, pretending to read the pastry menu like it was the SATs.
"So..." Andrew started. "You guys know each other?"
Theo said nothing.
I cleared my throat. "Yeah. Unfortunately."
Theo's mouth twitched.
The silence stretched again. Emma was busy coloring on a napkin with a pink pen I'd forgotten she had.
Then the pastries arrived.
My mille-feuille. Emma's croissant. Andrew's espresso.
The bill came with it.
I reached for it.
But Andrew beat me to it, handing the server his card without even blinking.
"Andrew!" I hissed. "Why'd you pay? I was going to—"
"You still owe me for that time I let you copy my Spanish homework. Consider it even."
I rolled my eyes, but my heart softened.
Theo looked like he was watching a tennis match between emotions.
And me?
I was trying very hard not to look at him. Not to notice the way his sleeves were pushed up, revealing those forearms. Not to think about how his eyes didn't leave me once.
Not to think about how two days from now, we'd both be skating at the biggest event of the season.
And here we were.
Stuck between pastries, old memories, and new confusion.