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‘So,’ Tess says. ‘You gonna tell us where you’ve been?’

I twist my fingers together, averting my gaze. ‘With Ash.’

Elodie’s eyebrow lifts. ‘That part we guessed.’

‘It turned into an overnighter,’ I admit. ‘Then most of today.’

Tess exchanges a look with Elodie. ‘Uh huh.’

‘It wasn’t planned.’

Elodie leans forward. ‘Was it good?’

‘Yes,’ I say immediately. ‘Very good.’

‘And?’ Tess asks.

‘And …’ I trail off, shrugging. ‘Now I’m back.’

Elodie tilts her head. ‘Did something happen?’

‘It was intense in the same way it always is with him,’ I reply.

Neither of them speaks for a moment.

Tess reaches over and squeezes my knee. ‘Do you want to be with him again? After everything?’

‘I don’t want to think too much about anything right now. We’ve only just come back into each other’s lives. I never thought I’d see him again.’ I shrug, leaning forward and rubbing circles into my temples. ‘Part of me wants to stay here and forget about everything else, but I’m not sure that’s the smart thing to do.’

Elodie nods. ‘Only you know what’s the right thing to do. We’d both love to have you here, you know that. Just be careful with him. He’s broken your heart before.’

‘I know. I will.’

Later, when I’m alone in my room, I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I turn my head toward the window. From here, I can see the streetlight that flickers every few seconds. Awareness ripples down my spine and I sit up abruptly. I look to the door, toward where Tess and Elodie are laughing somewhere down the hall. I can hear the murmur of a TV show playing in the living room. Swallowing, I drift over to the window and peer out of it, scanning the dark street. I know he’s out there. He always watches. Across the street, in the shadows between trees, there’s movement. Slowly, I slide the window open. Cold air spills in, kissing my bare legs beneath the oversized shirt I’m wearing – the one I took from his place. The street is quiet, almost empty. My eyes stay trained on the spot between the trees, where I saw the movement. There’s a silhouette leaning against the tree, head tilted slightly upward, hands in a dark hoodie.

You’re not supposed to want the person who ruined you, I remind myself.

The wind tugs at the branches above him. For a second, he’s swallowed whole by shadow. Then he moves. He steps forward into the streak of the streetlight, and the yellow glow catches the sharp line of his jaw. The hood slips back slightly, revealing dark hair that falls exactly the way it used to when he’d run a hand through it. His mouth curves into something that is not quite a smile, but more of a smirk.

God.

Five years have carved him into something harder. He has broader shoulders, and thicker forearms where the sleeves push up slightly. He looks less like the boy who used to kiss me behind closed doors and more like a man. He has always seemed older and bigger to me, but now even more so. His eyes find mine easily. Heat rushes through me, fast and disorienting. My fingers tighten against the window frame. I tell myself to step back. To close the curtain. To pretend I don’t feel the pull, this invisible thread wound tight between us. He tilts his head slightly. A question without words.

Are you going to pretend you don’t want this?

I could end it right now. One sharp movement of fabric and he’d be shut out. It’d be the safe choice – the sane choice. I should pack my things and leave, return to the life I ran away from because this – whatever this is – was never normal. The way he looks at me isn’t casual. It isn’t the same way other men have looked at me over the last few years, polite and curious and easily distracted. He looks at me like I belong to him. Like the years we spent apart were a pause, not an ending. He stalks me. That should terrify me. There’s something unbalanced in it. Something possessive, dangerous, and unhinged.

His shoulders square slightly when a car drives past too slowly, headlights sweeping over me where I stand in his shirt. The movement is subtle but unmistakable.

Protective. Territorial. As if to say: she is mine.

This isn’t healthy, but I like knowing he’d burn the world down before he let anyone touch me. When he drags his gaze down the length of me, I don’t feel like I’m in danger. I feel chosen – wanted in a way that’s absolute.

My breath fogs up the glass again. I let him watch me watching him. His hands come out of the hoodie pocket. He taps two fingers lightly against his own chest, then he points to me. The gesture is small but claiming.

I nod. The faintest dip of my chin.

Yes, I see you.