Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 12

And that was that. We went back to pretending. Because sometimes that’s all we can do. Pretend well enough that, just for a moment, the ache doesn’t eat us alive.

It was almost three when I heard the soft rumble of a car pulling up in front of the house.

James.

I smoothed the wrinkles from my pink cottage dress one last time in the mirror. It still fit the way it used to, the hem swaying just below my knees, the fabric light as air. My mom adored this dress, said it made me look like spring. She used to say, “If you ever wear that on a date, he won’t know what hit him.”

I don’t know if this counted as a date, but I hoped she’d approve.

I grabbed my tote bag and hurried down the stairs, my heart quickening with every step. Just as I reached for the doorknob, my dad’s voice stopped me.

“B,” he called from the couch, a little breathless. “Wait a second.”

I turned, and he was already standing—one hand behind his back, the other motioning me over. “I’ve got something for you.”

He stepped closer, then unwrapped his hand and revealed a gold bracelet. Delicate, almost trembling in his fingers. Tiny butterflies dangled from it, catching bits of light like they had wings of their own.

“This was your mom’s,” he said softly. “She wore it on our first date. I think... I think she'd like you to wear it today.”

For a moment, I didn’t say anything. My throat was too tight, my eyes suddenly stung. He took my wrist gently and clasped it shut, the metal warm against my skin. The butterflies didn’t make a sound, but I could almost hear her laughter in them.

I looked up at him. “Thanks, Dad.” I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

He nodded once. Swallowed. “Have fun today, alright?”

I turned to the door, heart both heavier and lighter at once. As I stepped outside and walked to James’s car, the sun caught on my bracelet---bright and golden, like a memory that hadn’t faded. James looked up from the driver's seat, smiled when he saw me. And for a brief, fleeting second, I felt like the kind of girl my mom used to imagine me becoming. Soft.

Brave.

We stood at the foot of the roller coaster, all six of us: me, James, Inez, Tim, Drake, and Corey---our necks craned back as we watched the metal monster scream through the sky. The wind from its latest drop whooshed past us like a warning.

Inez, ever the fashion anarchist, looked like a Tumblr-era dream rebranded in 2025: long white polo shirt unbuttoned over a black crop top, black pleated cheerleader skirt swaying around her thighs, and knee-high black boots that clicked confidently against the concrete. Her gold hoops caught the light like tiny suns, and her hair was braided into two neat side braids, giving her that fierce, chaotic goddess energy. She swung a little silver chain crossbody purse like it was a weapon. Tim stood beside her, perfectly opposite. A walking aesthetic board: black baggy pants, an oversized tee with some weirdly cute cartoon character I couldn’t place, and these chunky sneakers that looked like they were stolen off a Tokyo runway. His photochromic sunglasses darkened under the daylight, reflecting the coaster rails. Somehow, he made chaotic streetwear look poetic. Corey and Drake had gone full couple mode, matching denim jackets over rainbow “Pride” statement tees and crisp white Air Force 1s. Drake kept adjusting Corey’s jacket collar like they were in a K-drama, and Corey just laughed and let him. They looked happy. Really happy. I envied that kind of ease.

But James…

God.

He looked like the kind of man I could accidentally write a love song about. Brown knitted polo, the upper buttons undone just enough to be suggestive without trying. Silver chains gleamed against his collarbones, matching the Rolex that wrapped around his wrist like it belonged there. Khaki trousers, tailored just right. Brown leather LV loafers that made him walk like he owned the pavement. And his black sunglasses, those shouldn’t have worked on someone so fair-skinned and soft-featured, but on him? They made him look like trouble. The kind you don’t mind getting into.