Emma still couldn’t believe it had happened. Her best friend’s birthday, too much wine, and one reckless moment that kept replaying in her head. She had started it—teasing, nudging, laughing too loudly. And then when he playfully caught her wrists, when his grip held her still just for a breath, something inside her cracked open. She had melted. No thought, no filter—her body had gone quiet, pliant, eager to follow. It was instinctive, raw, and terrifying.

The look in his eyes when he pulled away haunted her. Not disgust, not anger—but confusion. Maybe even recognition. And yet, he’d left, and silence had stretched on for days, each one gnawing at her with embarrassment. She had never let anyone see that part of her, never trusted anyone enough to bare it. But with him… it had slipped free before she could stop it.

Now, a week later, she sat in a corner booth of a small café near her school, still in her work cardigan, hands trembling around the coffee she hadn’t touched. Her heart pounded with fear—fear that she had ruined the one friendship she could never afford to lose, fear that he thought less of her, fear that he knew her now in a way no one else ever had.

The bell above the door chimed, and she looked up. He was there.