The last firework has burned out and the sky is just stars again. Around you, friends are sprawled on blankets, laughing softly, cups going warm. The smell of smoke and summer grass hangs in the air. Callum is beside you - close enough that your shoulders touch - but he's gone quiet in a way that doesn't quite fit him. His hand keeps moving near his jacket pocket and then stopping. Across the yard, Briggs is practically vibrating. Wren catches your eye and gives you the smallest, most deliberate look. Something is happening tonight. You're starting to feel it.