vintage heart

"hm?" aaliyah looked over at the ferris wheel. it wasn't too high, and it seemed safe enough for a suitcase ride (rides you can take down and put back together that could come from a suitcase). "okay." she nodded her head, a smile on her face. the smell of some of the carnival treats that they ended up passing were enough to make her mouth water. "ooo, afterwards, can we get a treat?" she asked, looking back up at peyton with a hopeful look on her face. "we could get a candy apple, some cotton candy, or, my personal favorite, a funnel cake!" maybe it was just because she was looking forward to the funnel cake — she's had a taste for one ever since it was announced that the fair was coming back to town. she stopped walking, standing in line as she kept her arm linked with peyton's.

she smiled when she agreed to ride the ferris wheel. peyton had figured she’d be okay with it seeing as it was the safest, slowest ride in the whole place, practically designed for people who didn’t trust carnival rides. “of course we can! the food here is my second favorite reason for coming,” she said, laughing softly. her mind was already drifting toward the smell of funnel cakes and the greasy promise of fried everything. “definitely have to get fried oreos too. i can never resist those things,” she added, her voice warm with anticipation. as they neared the line, peyton lingered just behind the others, their arms still linked like it was second nature. “i’m really glad there isn’t a ton of people here right now.”

Steve’s heart did a weird little flip when she stepped onto the porch, that soft look in her eyes making it impossible to act casual. He ran a hand through his hair again, leaning against the doorframe like he needed something solid to hold onto. ❝ Yeah… winging it sounds perfect, ❞ he said, his voice quieter than usual, like he was talking to himself as much as to her. ❝ Honestly, I kinda like not having a plan. Makes it… easier to just, you know, be… us. ❞ — like what we once were he wanted to add in. He scratched the back of his neck, flashing that half-grin that usually came when he was trying not to show he was way more affected than he wanted to admit. ❝ So… um, where do we start? Coffee? Walk? Movie? Or do you want me to just… show you my top-secret, super-awesome hangout spots? ❞ Even as he joked, his eyes stayed on her, soft and careful, like he was memorizing her all over again. ❝ It’s been a long time, Nancy… but, uh… feels kinda right, you being here. ❞

It felt like foreign yet familiar territory being on his porch again, it was like stepping into a chapter she thought had ended but the page was always left open. She used to belong here and now she did again but in a different way than before. This time it felt more steady and permanent. The air between them was soft and light in comparsion to the usual heaviness that sat there. She offered a small smile, her way of agreeing to what he was speaking. His voice held a vulnerable edge to it, the kind that made her want to speak up and say everything she'd been holding it. But she didn't, not yet. The words were caught somewhere between her ribs and her throat. "I think coffee is definitely a good start," she said, her voice light. "But I'm intrigued by these top secret hangout spots." her voice teasing now, keeping it light between them like he was. Her eyes caught his and something inside of her settled. The lump in her throat still lingered but it didn't feel quite as obvious. "Yeah, yeah," she said, voice quieter than before. "It really does."

Cass could see some of the tension release off his shoulders, and she clocked the ghost of a smile. His words pulled the hint of a smile to her own lips and her slim shoulders shrugged. "That's the great thing about me writing the piece, aside from the occasional direct quote, it's not just a Q&A, so you don't have to worry about saying just the right thing." she leaned in a bit closer as though she were sharing a secret with the man. "And I doubt you could sound stupid." she offered with a playful wink. At his question, the brunette leaned back, hands coming together, fingers lacing on her lap as her nose scrunched slightly, eyes glancing off for a moment before returning to him, lips curled gently upward. "Too long." she offered, and though it wasn't a specific answer, it held it's own sense of vulnerability. How about I throw you a slowball." she started, her tone slightly teasing once again. "How long have you been doing this?" she repeated his question, taking her notepad back from the side table.

He didn’t quite know what to make of the woman standing in front of him. There was something about her this playful, almost flirty confidence that felt so foreign to him. It was disarming, in a way but beneath that brightness, he sensed something else. A quiet depth. A weight she carried that he couldn’t name, but could feel in the way her eyes lingered, in the softness of her voice. It made him intrigued though he’d never admit that out loud. “If you insist,” he said, his voice low, hoping it came out with the calm assurance she seemed to expect from him. He tried to steady himself, to quiet the nerves that had taken over in his chest, making his heart feel like it was sitting somewhere near his stomach. Straightening his posture, he kept his gaze on her, clearing his throat just enough to reset. “A little over seven years now,” he added, letting the words settle between them. “Entirely too long, if I say so myself.”

Steve’s chest tightened a little at the way she looked at him — like she was holding back a storm and trying to smile through it. He ran a hand through his hair, that familiar nervous tick he got when things got… complicated. ❝ Yeah, yeah of course, ❞ he said, forcing a grin that felt too small for the sudden jolt in his chest. ❝ I… I’d like that. ❞ He stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in, though he lingered in the doorway longer than necessary. ❝ I mean, it’s been… forever, hasn’t it? ❞ His voice was low, a little rough, like he was trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly. It was either she was busy with Jonathan or since his big love confession still they were more distant from one another. It was always Nancy to him. ❝ So yeah, we should definitely… spend some time. Catch up. Make it… normal-ish, at least. ❞ He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away for just a second before meeting her eyes again. ❝ You’ve got plans, or… uh, you just wanna, like… wing it? ❞ Even as he spoke, part of him couldn’t ignore the flutter in his stomach, that little pulse of hope that maybe today could fix… a lot of things. Or at least start to.

She felt a wave of relief wash over her when he agreed to spend the day together. It wasn’t just the comfort of his presence it was the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the moment she’d finally find the courage to say what had been pressing on her heart for weeks. To tell him why she ended things with Jonathan. That she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, about what he said, about what they were and that despite everything, her feelings hadn’t faded. If anything, they’d only grown stronger, buried beneath layers of denial and distraction. “It has felt like forever,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes met his. There was a softness in her gaze, a vulnerability she didn’t bother hiding this time. She stepped up onto the porch, the creak of the wood beneath her feet grounding her as she crossed the threshold into his space. “Normally I’d have a plan,” she said, offering a small smile. “But I don’t. I figured we could wing it… see where the day takes us?”

Steve froze when he heard the knock. It wasn’t late, but it was late enough that nobody should’ve been at his door. He wiped his palms on his jeans, brow furrowed as he moved toward it — and then stopped dead halfway. Through the small window, he caught a glimpse of her. Nancy Wheeler. For a second, he thought his brain was playing tricks on him — that familiar sting of nostalgia hitting harder than he’d like to admit. He opened the door slowly, blinking like he was still trying to process that she was actually standing there, under his porch light, looking like a ghost from another life. ❝ Nancy… hey, ❞ he finally said, his voice rough around the edges. ❝ Didn’t think I’d see you here. ❞ He leaned against the doorframe, trying to play it cool, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes — something softer, almost cautious. ❝ You okay? ❞ he asked, because she didn’t look like someone who just dropped by to catch up at this point in whatever relationship they had. And God, a part of him already knew — whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be simple.

It was as if every thought she’d rehearsed, every word she’d planned to say had dissolved the moment she saw him. Her mind went blank, her throat tightened, and the confession that had been pressing against her chest for days suddenly felt impossible to voice. She wanted to tell him everything, the truth, her feelings, the ache she’d been carrying but the weight of their history made her freeze. So instead, she deflected the direction of conversation at least for now. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." she said, her voice steady enough to sound convincing, even if it trembled just beneath the surface. It wasn’t a lie, just a softer version of the truth. She was more riddled with nerves than anything else. "I was wondering if you'd like to spend the day together? We hadn't really gotten to see each other much since everything happened." Nancy's voice remained soft as she looked at him.