Not until you prompt her.

My mind wouldn't settle. Chloe's strap was still loose — I'd seen it slip further as she walked, bouncing with each step, and she hadn't noticed, or hadn't cared enough to check. I should've said something the second we got off the ride. I didn't know why I hadn't.

A couple walking the other way did a poor job of not looking. Then a man near the churro stand, his eyes flicking down and lingering half a second too long before he caught himself. My stomach twisted. *Say something. Say it now.*

"Chloe, hang on." I caught her arm, steering her gently away from the main path, toward the quieter stretch by the toilets where the crowds thinned out.

"What?" She was still buzzing from the ride, half-laughing at something. "Do I have candy floss in my hair again?"

"Your top," I said. "It's — I think your bra strap's gone."

She looked down, and for a second her face didn't do anything at all — then she laughed, but it came out thinner than her usual laugh. "Oh — oh god, seriously?" Her hand flew to her chest. "How bad?"