Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 7

She missed the first. Then the second. The third ricocheted off the backboard.

She turned to me, hands on her hips. “This rim is clearly biased.”

“Biased against adorable math nerds, apparently.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling.

We never got to five. Hell, she didn’t even get one.

We left the gym with our laughter still echoing in the back of my mind, like sunlight caught in a jar, something warm I didn’t want to let go of just yet. Betty walked ahead, humming a song she said it's called Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift, her hair bouncing with every step. There was something about her when she was in motion, like she was dancing through life without even realizing it.

The ice cream shop smelled like sweetened milk and nostalgia. Faded pink walls, a chime above the door, sticky floors that clung to your sneakers. I went straight for the freezer section, eyes searching out the familiar black-and-white swirl I always went for, cookies and cream.

But before I could say a word, Betty stepped up to the counter.

“Two Black Forest, extra marshmallows and rainbow sprinkles, please,” she said with a smile that could convince anyone she knew exactly what she was doing.

I raised a brow. “Not my usual.”

“I know,” she said, handing me one. “That’s kind of the point.”

I stared at it. Chocolate, cherries, a mess of colors on top. “You’re trying to ruin my life.”

She grinned, already licking hers. “Or improve it. Try it before you complain.”

So I did. The taste exploded, tart cherry tangled with smooth chocolate, marshmallows sticking to the roof of my mouth. Not bad. Different. She watched me with those half-moon eyes of hers, trying to catch my first reaction. I kept a straight face for a second, then gave in.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Maybe you’re not completely insane.”

She smiled into her spoon. “Told you. You can’t always play it safe with the usual.”

I knew she wasn’t just talking about the ice cream.

We sat by the window. Outside, the world looked simple, people walking dogs, someone laughing on the phone, a kid chasing pigeons. But in here, between us, something was shifting. Something soft and terrifying. Her knee bumped mine under the table and stayed there. Not on purpose, probably. But I didn’t move.

I watched her scoop out the cherry and save it for last. She had a habit of doing that, saving the best parts. Like she knew how to wait for good things.

“Why’d you choose this flavor?” I asked.

She shrugged, looking at her spoon like it had answers. “Because I thought you’d hate it and I’d get to eat yours too.”

I smirked. “Smart.”

“I’m always thinking ahead, James.”

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to look behind me.

The sky had settled into that strange shade of indigo just before nightfall, the kind of blue that made the world feel quieter, like it was tucking itself in. Streetlamps blinked on one by one, their amber glow flickering against the long shadows cast by the trees. We sat on a worn-out bench in the park, the kind that had initials carved into the wood and paint peeling like forgotten layers of time.

Betty sat beside me, pulling her knees up onto the bench and hugging them close. Her blouse had a wrinkle she kept smoothing out with her thumb, absentmindedly, like she needed her hands to be doing something while her mind was somewhere else.