sky & stars

Duke's world narrowed to the warmth of her lips against his, everything else—conversations, clinking cups, his own bullshit excuses for keeping distance—just vanishing into nothing. When she pulled back to look at him with those brown eyes that sliced through every wall he'd ever built, he realized he'd been holding his breath like some lovesick teenager. "All in," he repeated, voice coming out rougher than intended, thumb still tracing circles across her knuckles because letting go felt impossible right now. She was asking for everything, the real deal, and Christ he'd been waiting for someone with enough guts to demand that from him longer than he wanted to admit.

The tiger was massive and ridiculous, orange fur practically glowing under the carnival lights, and Duke couldn't help but shake his head as he reached up to claim it from the booth operator who looked genuinely impressed by the force of that swing. "Yeah, well, turns out all that pent-up frustration from you testing me for weeks finally came in handy," he said, turning to face her with the oversized prize tucked under one arm while trying to process what she'd just laid out for him because this wasn't just flirting anymore, this was her actually telling him what she wanted from someone, from him.

She couldn’t help it—her face lit up the second the tiger landed in Duke’s arms. “Are you kidding me? That thing is huge,” she laughed, reaching out to tug one of the oversized stuffed paws like she was half-tempted to try and wrestle it away from him. “Forget fire and boundaries, you just won me a damn circus mascot. That’s the real test of loyalty right there.” Her grin lingered, bright and unguarded, the kind of look she didn’t give out often. For once, the thrill of it wasn’t about chaos or a gamble—it was about the ridiculousness of a man who actually made her feel…safe. But then his words settled in, and the laughter softened into something quieter. Her hand lingered against the tiger’s fur as she tilted her head, studying him.

Rhea did have a point, Tatiana found joy in making a statement and she for sure wanted to make her wedding an unforgettable night for her and her husband, as well as their guests. “Ugh, thank you so much! I’m slowly realizing how real this is and that I actually need to plan this.” There were so many ideas she had, all tucked away in her journal as well as a digital collage of inspiration on how they should nail the aesthetic. The possibilities were endless and she definitely needed someone like her best friend to support and guide her through it. “Perfect, we’ll make it happen! I know we’re both head strong women, but promise you won’t bail on me just cause I out bitched you? Let’s acknowledge that the stress may get to me and you can gladly call me out on it when I push it too far!”

She leaned back slightly, savouring the warmth of the sun filtering through the café window and the comforting clink of her glass against Tatiana’s. She let herself smile fully, the kind of easy, genuine grin that only came around people you trusted completely. “Headstrong, dramatic, and totally unafraid to ruffle a few feathers? Honestly, Tati, that’s exactly why you’re going to nail this wedding,” she said, voice playful but sincere. “And you know I wouldn’t miss being by your side for a second of it. Stress, meltdowns, diva moments—you name it, I’ve got your back. Promise I won’t bail… though I make no guarantees about a well-timed eye roll here or there.” She let out a soft laugh, taking another sip of her mimosa as she leaned in slightly across the table. “Planning a wedding isn’t just about flowers and centrepieces, it’s about making memories, and we’re going to make sure every second is unforgettable. You’ll have the moments that make you feel like a queen, the little victories that make you laugh until your cheeks hurt, and yeah… maybe a few moments where you want to strangle me—but I’ll be right there with you anyway.”

Rhea let out a soft laugh, shaking her head with that easy, half-amused smile that always seemed to land between them. “You know me too well,” she said, leaning back just enough to let the words settle. “Duke’s chaos and my love of a little fire—yeah, I’m not exactly practicing restraint. But…that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the quiet too. I get it, Violeta. I really do.” Her gaze lingered on her friend, warm and steady. “And tonight? Count me in. Let’s see if we can handle the wild without tipping the balance too far—though I make no promises we won’t crash spectacularly and have the best time doing it.” She raised her coffee cup in a mock salute. “Balance or not, we’ve earned a little chaos on our own terms.”

"He does, kid's got this habit of showing up whenever he needs someone to teach him how to fix his bike or wants to hear stories about Chicago," Duke said, his fingers tightening around hers as she traced those circles on his skin that made him forget they were sitting in public. "And you're right, standing in the shadows got us nowhere except watching everyone else live while we stayed safe on the sidelines." She nailed it, because he wanted the same thing, a real relationship, instead of something with an escape plan.

She let out a soft, deliberate breath, her gaze locked on his. Her fingers tightened around his hand, a grounding tether in the middle of the noise that no longer seemed to matter. “I get it,” she said, her voice low, steady, but carrying the weight of everything she meant. “I see him, the kid, and it’s not just about showing up for chores or stories about Chicago—it’s about being present, showing care without needing a medal or a thank-you. That’s the kind of man I want in my corner…someone who doesn’t run, doesn’t hide, and doesn’t treat people like props in his story.” Her thumb traced the back of his hand, slow, intimate. Of course she too wanted to hear his stories about Chicago but now wasn't the time. This coffee shop also wasn't the place for it. “And yeah…standing in the shadows? Watching from the sidelines? That’s not living. It’s just existing. Done with lonely sounds exactly right.” She leaned in closer, letting her forehead brush his, her eyes glimmering with fire and something softer underneath. “I don’t want half-measures, Duke. I don’t want anyone who flinches at chaos, or at me. I want…this,” she murmured, letting her lips hover against his before pressing them firmly in a kiss that said everything words couldn’t. Pulling back just enough to let her gaze meet his, she whispered, “All in. No running, no safe ground. You, me…us. Full chaos, full fire, full story.” Her hand lingered over his, the warmth and intent undeniable, the unspoken promise clear—this was it. They were done pretending.

"Keeping up with you has been the challenge since day one," Duke said, watching her move toward the hammer game while trying not to focus on how she kept touching him and then pulling away like she was testing his reactions. "And yeah, I'll swing that hammer, but you're talking about going all in and not running from fire like this is some kind of relationship interview disguised as carnival games." This time, her words were a game changer since she wasn't just flirting, she was being direct about what she wanted from him, and he'd been waiting for this convo since things started between them.

She turned, letting her hand brush lightly against his arm as she leaned closer, eyes glinting with mischief. “Careful, Duke,” she murmured, tilting her head just slightly so he could see the look in her eyes, “you’ve been keeping up just fine… but let’s be honest—you’ve never met someone who actually wants you to try.” Her gaze flicked toward the hammer game, then back at him, daring. “I want someone who sees the fire, feels it, and decides to step into it anyway. Someone who doesn’t flinch when things get sharp or chaotic—or when I start testing boundaries.” She gestured toward the target, her thumb sweeping over the plush toys stacked high. “That tiger? It’s just the beginning. You want to impress me? Then swing with everything you’ve got… and maybe try not to break your ego in the process.”

"You're not wrong there. Ford does have a tendency to pop up on my mind. I honestly thought that's because we're such close friends though. Apparently there's more to it." Hae-Rin said, setting her glass down because she needed to actually process what Rhea was telling her about stepping into the light with everything exposed. "I keep thinking about all those times he just appeared when I needed someone and I never questioned why he kept doing that." Maybe she'd been too scared to look too closely at why Ford always seemed to know when she was falling apart, why he never made her feel like she was asking for too much when she called him at weird hours or showed up at his place looking like a disaster. "But this whole no running back to just friends thing is what's making me lose my mind because what if I mess this up and lose him completely?" She'd never been good at the vulnerable thing, never been great at letting people see her when she wasn't put together, but Ford had somehow slipped past all her defenses without her even noticing. The marriage certificate felt like jumping off a cliff without knowing if there was water below—except maybe Ford had been the water all along and she was just too stubborn to see it. "I guess I'm terrified that I'm not brave enough for this kind of love but also terrified of not trying."

In parts Rhea could understand why Hae-Rin had been adamant to think her feelings towards Ford were strictly platonic or just friendship based, especially when they were such close friends. But it was nice to see the other woman so receptive now to where that relationship was developing. "That's exactly it, he's proven himself.." she paused with a smile before taking a sip from her own drink. "Honestly I don't know Ford very well, but I do know you and I think if you both give your truest emotion--you might be able to make it work, beyond friendship and instead of losing it--you'll only enhance your bond further, you know what I mean?" She smiled at the other before nodding at the other's confession. "Being scared isn't necessarily a bad thing Hae-Rin, if anything it shows both of you just how meaningful your bond is, and that's why it's taken a bit longer to get here. Give it a try--I'm sure you won't regret jumping off the deep end." It was amusing that Rhea Sethi was giving this advice seeing as she ran 100 miles away from anything remotely similar to the emotion of love, choosing to deal in anything else transactionally, and never letting herself become vulnerable.

jesse stared at the drink he'd ordered and allowed it to sit on the table for a few moments as she spoke. "yeah, aarti. she's a pain in my ass." he sighed and even though she was, he couldn't bring himself to completely avoid her. he still came around prohibition pete's and he still talked to her, even if he shouldn't. it was almost like, deep down, he liked getting under her skin. "that doesn't mean i like arguing with her." that wasn't completely true but he wouldn't admit that to himself, let alone out loud. he inhaled a deep breath, considering her words as he looked back up at her, "maybe you're right. it's got to be some sort of a win if she's not completely ignoring me."

She arched a brow, swirling the straw in her drink like she was stirring up trouble. “Oh, please,” she said, lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. “You absolutely like arguing with her. Don’t give me that ‘pain in my ass’ routine—you wouldn’t keep coming back if you didn’t get something out of it.” She tilted her head, studying him with the kind of look that made it clear she was already two steps ahead in whatever game he thought he was playing. “Aarti doesn’t waste her breath on people she doesn’t care about. Trust me, I know. If she’s engaging, it means you’ve made yourself impossible to ignore… which, knowing you, is probably exactly the point.” Leaning back in her chair, Rhea smirked. “So yeah, maybe it is a win. Even if it’s the messy kind you’re pretending isn’t addictive.” Her gaze lingered on him for a beat before she added, quieter but still sharp, “Just don’t act surprised when the fire you’re poking decides to burn back.”

Rhea laughed, the warmth in her chest spreading as she caught Tatiana’s excitement and felt it ripple through her like electricity. “Dramatic? Please, you’re the queen of grand gestures and unforgettable moments—no complaints here.” She reached across the table and gave Tatiana’s hand a squeeze, her eyes sparkling with affection. “And I promise, you won’t just get photos—you’ll get the full emotional support squad. I’ll be there for every meltdown, every freak-out, and every victory dance.” Her smile softened as she thought about the planning ahead, the late nights, the brainstorming sessions—everything that made this more than just a wedding, but a celebration of something real and beautiful. “Coffee to cocktails sounds like the perfect way to get it all done. We’ll make it fun, no stress allowed.”

"Deshawn stays with his mom most of the time, comes around when he needs something or wants to hang out," Duke said, his fingers tightening around hers as she traced patterns across his shirt that made him forget they were in public. "And yeah, I'd clear out every game on that midway if it meant seeing you smile like that." Her admission about stealing spotlights but needing someone to have her back hit him square in the chest, and he could see her walls coming down just enough to let him glimpse what was underneath all that fire and bravado. She was asking him to step into something real here, something that went beyond flirting in coffee shops and stolen moments in elevators, and honestly he'd been waiting for this question since the first time she'd challenged him to be more than just another guy keeping his head down in Devil's Junction. 

She had so many questions about his personal life, wanting to know more but instead she nodded as he spoke about Deshawn residing with Duke's sister. "I bet he always wants to hang out with his uncle Duke." Her breath caught, her gaze locking on his as the weight of his words settled between them like the scent of fresh coffee — warm, real, impossible to ignore. Her fingers tightened just a bit on his hand, tracing slow circles on his skin, grounding herself to the moment too, the way his thumb moved against her knuckles. “Yeah,” she whispered, voice low and steady, “I want that. Not just the fire — the whole damn blaze.”

"Mhmm... we're definitely both screwed," Hae-Rin said with a laugh that felt both nervous and excited at the same time, because honestly what else could she do when Rhea laid it out like that—big, beautiful, complicated trouble was exactly right. "But you saying you want to see what he looks like first thing in the morning? That's when you know it's real, not just the fun flirty stuff." She could relate to that terror of being chosen at your worst because wasn't that exactly what Ford had been doing for years without either of them really acknowledging it? He'd seen her show up at his door at some random morning hour stressed about work, cranky from lack of sleep, being unreasonable about stupid things, and he'd never once made her feel like she was too much or too difficult. "The scary part about getting married though is that now there's nowhere to hide from it, like we can't pretend it's just friendship anymore when there's a ring and legal documents involved." Was she overthinking this whole thing or was marriage really just the ultimate way of saying you're willing to be seen completely? Because that's what it felt like right now, terrifying and wonderful all at once. "At least with your mystery guy you can still pretend it's casual if you want to, but I'm about to sign papers that basically say 'yes, I choose this person forever' and hope like hell he feels the same way about me."

She smiled, a soft warmth threading through her eyes as she listened to Hae-Rin’s words—so honest, so raw. “Yeah, big, beautiful, complicated trouble… sounds about right for both of us,” she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something deeper. “And waking up next to someone who sees all the messy, unfiltered versions of you? That’s the real deal. No filters, no pretending. It’s terrifying, but also kind of the best thing there is.” She took a slow sip of her wine, letting the quiet settle between them before continuing. “Ford sounds like he’s been showing up in all the ways that matter, even if neither of you talked about it out loud. That’s what sticks—the people who don’t run when the real stuff hits, who hold space for you on the days you feel too much.”

Kai met her gaze, seeing the subtle shift in her expression. Underneath the dry humor and sarcasm, he could see a hint of vulnerability, a flicker of pain. His lips tugged into a small smile, almost bittersweet. "Guarded." He repeated, his voice low but steady. "That's a polite way of putting it, isn't it?" He leaned back in his chair, taking a slow sip of his drink. "And, yes, I've quoted Neruda once or twice. But only to impress the ladies and occasional gent." He shot her a wry grin. He leaned back slightly, regarding her with thoughtful eyes. "You know." He started, his voice taking on a more serious note. "I think there's something to be said for scars and pain. They make us who we are, huh? Even if it’s not necessarily who we intended to be…”

She met his gaze steadily, a flicker of something softer threading through her usual guarded cool. “Guarded is definitely the polite version,” she admitted with a small, wry smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sometimes it feels more like a full-on fortress.” She let out a quiet laugh, the kind that held a little weariness beneath the surface. “And Neruda, huh? Guess the ladies and gents got good taste.” She arched an eyebrow playfully but didn’t push him further on the poetry front—some things were better left unspoken, or maybe saved for the right moment. Her fingers traced absent circles on the rim of her glass as she considered his words. “Scars and pain... yeah. They shape us, whether we want them to or not. Sometimes they feel like a map of every mistake, every loss... but also every survival.” She looked up, meeting his eyes again, letting the vulnerability slip through just a bit. “I don’t think anyone ever really plans to become who they are after the hardest parts. It’s more like you get carved out by the world, piece by piece.” She paused, voice softening. “But maybe, just maybe, those pieces make us stronger. More real. More willing to let someone in, even if it scares the hell out of us.” Her smile returned, a little brighter now, though still edged with that bittersweet honesty. “I guess the trick is finding someone who sees the stories in the scars, instead of just the damage.”

"Damn right they're gonna stare," he said, following her lead through the tent entrance while trying not to think about how her lips had been close enough to his ear that he could feel her breath, or how she'd just casually mentioned losing his innocence like she was planning to corrupt him in ways that had nothing to do with circus acts. The tent was buzzing with energy and noise, families finding seats while performers warmed up in the background, but honestly all he could focus on was how she kept touching him—first his arm, then his wrist—like she was marking her territory or something, and he wasn't complaining. Her comment about liking men who tried even when the odds were rigged hit different though, because wasn't that exactly what this whole thing between them was?

Rhea’s grin deepened, slow and deliberate, the kind of smile that hinted at secrets just waiting to be unraveled. She glanced over her shoulder toward the ring, but her eyes flicked back to Duke, shimmering in the warm haze of the tent lights. “I’m expecting you to lift more than just weights tonight,” she said, her voice low and playful but edged with something softer underneath—something that wasn’t just about teasing. “How about the weight of keeping up with me? That’s the real strongman challenge.” Her fingers curled around his wrist briefly, the pressure both grounding and electric, before she let go, stepping toward the edge of the midway where one of those classic carnival games stood: the hammer swing that promised a giant stuffed animal for the victor. She nodded toward the game, the colourful lights blinking in rhythm with the music and laughter all around them. “See that?” she said, voice a little quieter now, more intimate. “That’s where I’m expecting you to prove yourself. Not just with muscles, but with guts—and maybe a little bit of luck.”

"A tent full of screaming kids high on sugar sounds like my kind of chaos," Duke said, his grip on her hand tightening as her fingertips traced across his shirt, and honestly he wasn't sure if she was testing him or just enjoying watching him try to keep his composure in public. "You want me to win you a giant stuffed tiger? I'll clear out every game on that midway if that's what it takes." Her hand moving against his chest made him forget for a second that they were sitting in a coffee shop instead of somewhere private, but hell, maybe that was part of what made this work between them—she never did anything halfway either.

"Oh yeah? Are you also planning on taking Deshawn at some point?" She didn't know if Duke's nephew stayed here or elsewhere but she found herself wanting to know more about him--always. It was weird, normally she didn't care to get to know people and here she was, wanting to know everything about Duke. "Ooh careful Duke, you're beginning to get a little too sexy, especially when you talk about clearing out every game just to get me a giant tiger," she loved the way his heart beat under her fingertips, reminding them both of this moment and how charged it was beginning to get.

She smiled softly, her fingers still playing with the delicate rings as she listened to Violeta. “Yeah, Duke’s stubbornness is definitely part of his charm — and sometimes the part that drives me crazy,” she admitted with a sly grin. “But honestly, it’s the stuff you don’t want to fix that makes the whole thing real. Trying to change someone just feels like fighting the tide, and I’m not about that life.” She glanced up, meeting Violeta’s eyes with something honest and steady. “I get what you mean about Christian… That quiet kind of comfort is rare. The kind that doesn’t need grand gestures or fireworks to feel like home.” Her voice softened a little, a hint of wistfulness threading through her words. “I think that’s what I want too — someone who shows up not just for the chaos but for the calm after it. Who’s there for the messy, loud, wild parts and the quiet mornings that follow.” Rhea paused, then tilted her head with a teasing smile. “So, how are you really doing with all that, Vi? Quiet days, wild nights, and everything in between?”

“Girl, it all happened too fast and for the record, I don’t text, email or post my personal life publicly. I prefer having meaningful conversations and you know, on the bright side you are the first one I told…So this is special treatment.” However, Tati did agree that she should have run it by her maid of honour and so she added, “You’re honestly right on both accounts. I should have consulted you, but also you know me well enough that if I want something I do what it takes to get it and in that moment…It just came to me at lightning speed that I couldn’t hold back.” 

She gave her a dramatic, narrowed-eye look over the rim of her glass, setting it down with a soft clink before leaning in. “Special treatment, huh? I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” she said, tone dry but teasing. “You better not be out here breaking news exclusives to someone else first. I’m your maid of honour, not your intern.” Still, even her faux offence couldn’t hide the warmth in her expression. Her voice softened slightly as she added, “I get it though. When you know, you know. And lightning speed is very on-brand for you. I just reserve the right to act wounded for exactly one more brunch before I forgive you completely.” She grinned, all affection and light ribbing, before reaching for her mimosa again. The mention of wedding planning had her sitting up straighter, a glint of excitement flashing in her eyes. “Oh, babe. It will be the wedding of the year,” she said with the kind of confidence only Rhea could pull off without sounding like a diva. “We’re talking dreamy venue, impeccable guest list, a playlist that will make grown men cry—and yes, I will keep you from going full bride-zilla, but I’m also not above slapping a crystal tiara on your head if it helps you calm down during a meltdown.”