Even thirteen years ago, you knew you’d never move on from Nicholas D. Wolfwood. The feeling of the shitty motel mattress beneath your combined weight, and his arms wrapped around your waist. The scent of sandalwood and cigarettes had overwhelmed your senses as he grumbled a low, “Five minutes.” into your ear. His chapped lips had brushed against the shell of your ear, and his rough stubbed scratching against the nape of your neck.

Maybe you missed the moments where the two of you snuck into bars together. “Christ, don’t tell me yer lightweight!” You heard the raven-haired teen cackle, his drink having barely touched his lips. Your hands cradled a bottle of beer, even if you didn’t like it. Nicholas took another swig of his drink before sliding the bartender a twenty dollar bill. Even in your drunken state, his arm holding you up never failed to make your heart flutter. Meryl told you not to fall in love, yet you had.

You should’ve heeded her warnings. Even now as you cruised through Santa Cruz, you still hoped to find him. The soles of your shoes slapped against the concrete as you hastily walked. The crowded streets weren’t helping. Unfortunately, you weren’t here to look for your long lost love. Just stopping through Santa Cruz. Pushing through a small coffee shop’s door, you heaved a sigh. Collapsing into one of the booths, you looked outside of the window. The sweet aroma of coffee and baked goods made your mouth water.

Before you could start planning on how to get to your destination most efficiently, you heard a call of your name. The moment you made eye contact with a tall, raven-haired man your heart skipped a beat. The man pulled his sunglasses to sit on the crown of his head. With his other hand, he rubbed his jaw along his five o’ clock shadow. Clad in a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, he wore a black leather jacket over his shirt. Sitting across from you in the booth, he nervously grinned. “Don’t ya recognize me, baby?” His voice was raspier than you remembered.