Push her to fix it

"Bad enough. Go fix it, I'll wait."

She ducked behind the row of bushes near the bins, and I heard the rustle of fabric, a muttered curse, the particular kind of scrabbling that meant she was struggling with the clasp. I turned my back to give her privacy and found myself scanning the crowd instead — not for anyone in particular, just checking, cataloguing, making sure no one was still looking our way, as if I could undo whatever had already happened by making sure nothing else did.

"This stupid thing," Chloe muttered from behind the leaves. "The hook's bent, I can't—"

"Need help?"

A pause. "...Yeah, actually."

I slipped behind the bushes with her. She turned her back to me, holding her top up with one hand, and I fixed the clasp with fingers that weren't quite steady, more careful than the moment probably needed.

"There," I said. "Should hold now."

"Thanks." She turned back around, tugging her top straight, and for just a second her usual easy expression seemed to catch on something before smoothing back over. "You're always the one who notices."

I didn't know what to do with that, so I just shrugged. "Someone has to."

She grinned — properly this time, back to herself — and looped her arm through mine like nothing had happened. "Come on. Let's find something to eat, I'm starving."

I let her pull me back toward the lights, the churro stand, the noise, but the thought stayed with me the whole walk over: *I should have said something the second I noticed. Not after.*