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Lenny's cheeks turn pink as she laughs awkwardly.

"I'm sure that's not true," she says, glancing at V.

I don't even bother signing it. Vienna's already responding.

"Maybe not," I translate, the knot in my stomach loosening just a little. "He probably couldn't see you from all the way over there."

She tips her chin toward where I was standing, and I lift both hands and brows as if to say exactly.

"But he definitely thinks you're pretty," I add, realizing it a second too late.

The moment the words leave my mouth, I want them back.

I whip back to Lenny to find her already looking at me, watching—waiting for my reaction.

Slowly, I turn to V.

She moves her hands. "I can tell by his face."

"I'm not making a face," I argue.

Vienna flicks her collarbone with her pinky again—my sign name—then adds are too, none of which I say out loud.

"Am not."

Lenny's laugh floats past me, and my whole body tenses like I just stepped into a memory I never wanted to revisit. This laugh's not uncomfortable. Not nervous.

This is the real thing—the one that used to set my whole world on fire.

Hell… that apparently still might.

Vienna taps my arm. "That look!" Her eyes grow wide, her whole body leaning into her hands as she says it.

I brush my palm down my face. Unbelievable.

"Okay, you're definitely fine," I say, my fingers fast, my voice stern. "Why don't you go swing or flip over the bar—do literally anything else right now?"

Vienna shrugs, skipping away as if nothing ever happened, and I watch her go, mostly to make sure she's okay.

Partially to avoid whatever unfolds next.

"She's so cute," Lenny says before I can fully prepare.

"Yeah," I huff out, dragging my sneaker across the blacktop. "She's great."

She finds herself climbing up the rope ladder. "I, uh, I didn't realize she—"

"How would you?" I ask, sharper than I mean to.

Lenny goes quiet, her lips pressing into a flat line.

I hate that I notice.

"So… you're still running," I say, crossing my arms over my chest and finding Vienna slipping down the slide. I block the memories that try to flood in at the sight of her lying at the bottom.

Lenny hums. "I guess some habits stick."

Our eyes meet, and hers bounce between mine like she's searching for something. Mine stay fixed—almost afraid to go looking.