Nora’s POV
Three days of hiding.
It's not hard, technically. Danny goes to West Side. I go to North Side. Our worlds aren't supposed to touch. The only places we've ever crossed paths are Iron Hour and No Man's Land — the gym and the bar, both on neutral ground, both places I used to escape to when my own life felt suffocating.
Now they feel like minefields.
I stop going to Iron Hour. Cancel my late-night runs. Tell myself I'll find another gym, one that doesn't smell like leather and motor oil and bad decisions.
Every time I hear a motorcycle engine, I flinch. Every leather jacket in my peripheral vision makes my heart stutter. It's like my body has developed an allergic reaction to anything that might remind me of him.
I avoid No Man's Land completely — not that I went there often anyway, but Maren keeps suggesting drinks and I keep making excuses.
"I have to study."
"I'm not feeling well."
"Maybe next week."
The lies taste stale on my tongue. But the alternative — walking into that bar and seeing him leaning against the counter with that infuriating smirk — makes my chest tight in ways I can't explain.
So I become a ghost in my own life. Eat in my apartment instead of the dining hall. Take the long route to class, hugging North Side territory like the border means something. Skip the inter-college events that keep popping up on my calendar, even the mandatory ones.
Three days of hiding from a guy I shouldn't even be thinking about.
Maren corners me after our shared lecture on Thursday, blocking my escape route with the determination of someone who's been waiting for this ambush.
"Okay." She crosses her arms. "What the hell is going on with you?"
"Nothing." I shrug, already reaching for my bag. "Just tired."
"Bullshit. You've been weird since the rooftop." Her eyes narrow. "Did something happen with that West Side guy? The one you were definitely not looking at?"
My heart stutters. "I wasn't looking at anyone."
"Nora. You literally ran out of that party like your ass was on fire. And now you're dodging every place where you might accidentally breathe the same air as him." She tilts her head. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened." I force a laugh that sounds hollow even to me. "I'm just stressed about exams. You know how I get."
Maren studies me for a long moment. I can see her calculating — how hard to push, whether I'll crack, if it's worth the fight.
"Fine," she says finally. "But you're telling me eventually. I have ways of making people talk."
"Noted."
She lets me go, but I feel her eyes on my back all the way down the hallway.
That night, alone in my apartment, I can't stop thinking.
Rules are optional.
Danny said it like it was nothing. A throwaway line, casual, meaningless. But it's Ghost's phrase. The exact words. The exact tone. The thing he says when I'm scared, when I'm hesitating, when I need permission to want something I've been taught not to want.
It can't be coincidence.
Except — what if it is? What if I'm so desperate to find Ghost that I'm seeing him in places he doesn't exist? What if my brain is doing that thing where you hear a word once and suddenly it's everywhere, confirmation bias dressed up as fate?
I need proof. Real proof. I need to get into Echo and talk to Ghost — actually talk to him, ask him questions, see if he says something only Danny would know.
The thought makes me nauseous.
I consider my options. Asking my parents for money is impossible. They'd demand to know why, and explaining that I need five hundred dollars to replace the VR headset Dad destroyed would trigger a nuclear meltdown. Getting a job would take weeks — applications, interviews, training — and exam session starts in five days.
I don't have weeks. I need to know now, before the uncertainty drives me insane.
I open my laptop and start searching. VR gaming cafes. Arcades. Anywhere with headsets available for public use.
Most results are useless. Closed permanently. No VR equipment. Wrong side of the state. I scroll through pages of dead ends, each one tightening the knot in my stomach.
Then I find one.
A gaming club with full VR setups. Open late. Reasonable hourly rates. My heart lifts — then sinks when I see the address.
An hour and a half away by car. Each direction.
Three hours of travel for maybe one hour of answers.
I stare at the screen, cursor hovering over the booking link. This is insane. Taking a three-hour round trip to play a video game. Missing study time during exam week. All because a guy at a party said three words that might mean nothing.
But Ghost is in that game. Ghost, who knows my secrets. Ghost, who held me together when I fell apart. Ghost, who I haven't been able to reach in weeks because my father's heel came down on the only bridge between us.
If there's even a chance that Danny is Ghost — that the person I hate and the person I love are the same man — I need to know.
The desperation wins.
I book the appointment for tomorrow, right after my last class. Ninety minutes there. One hour in the club. Ninety minutes back. I'll miss dinner. I'll probably miss sleep. I'll definitely miss study time I can't afford to lose.
But I'll have answers.
And if Ghost is there — if Ghost says something only Danny would know — then I'll finally understand why my body can't decide whether to run toward Danny or away from him.
I close my laptop and stare at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, I log back into Echo. Tomorrow, I see Ghost for the first time in weeks. Tomorrow, I find out if the man I trusted with my soul is the same man who made me a bet at a bar.
I'm not sure which outcome terrifies me more.
If Danny is Ghost, then I've been falling in love with someone I was taught to despise. Someone my father would call trash. Someone who let his friends mock me for sport.
If Danny isn't Ghost, then Ghost is still out there somewhere — and I'm wasting time chasing shadows while he waits for me by the stone bridge, wondering why I disappeared.
Either way, something breaks tomorrow.
I just don't know which pieces will be left when it does.