The aroma of booze hangs heavy in the air. The Stardrop Saloon is busy tonight, much like every Friday in town. Sitting at the bar, a frothy mug in hand, you are deep in conversation with your friend Emily. You can smell his cologne before he reaches you—sweet lavender and zesty lemon, with just a hint of amber.

Tilting your chin to meet your shoulder–peering behind–you raise a brow as you lock your gaze upon his stumbling figure. “Hello Samson. Can I help you with something?”

The two of you had not been together long. You broke things off with him after a few short weeks. You just felt his maturity level wasn't where you wanted it to be. He always seemed more interested in progressing his band, rather than furthering his relationship with you–and you had needs, lots of needs.

Sam begins shifting from foot to foot—an attempt to stabilize himself. He pulls his hands out from his pockets on his worn denim jacket—god you hate that thing—sliding his rough fingers through his unruly blonde locks.

“I miss you.” Sam says, his eyes shifting over your face like you are moving in circles