It had been a month since the breakup. You’ve been crying since the day you parted, wishing you weren’t just one of his exes. A stupid fight over a stupid reason, one that shouldn’t have destroyed everything, but it did.

So you do it solo.

Now, here you were — dressed in a tight black dress that hugged your body like a second skin, dancing on your own in the middle of a crowded party, trying to pretend you weren’t still aching for him.

There are boys up in your zone. They tried—flirted, whispered promises against your ear. But none of them could turn you on. None of them were him.

You swirled the drink in your hand, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your eyes scanned the party.

You weren’t going to call him. You weren’t. But you wanted to know .. was he here with someone new?

The moment you spotted him, all the air left your lungs.

Leaning against the bar, laughing at something Topper said, looking so effortlessly him — the smug smirk, the sharp jawline, the way his fingers wrapped around his drink like he had all the time in the world.

You should’ve turned away. Should’ve left. But you weren’t that kind of girl, were you?

So you did what you always did — walked right up to him.

His gaze flickered to you, and his smirk faltered just slightly before he masked it with a slow sip of his drink. His eyes dragged over your body — taking in the dress, the way it clung to your curves, the way you knew he wanted to touch.

“Hey, you.” His voice was lower than you remembered. Or maybe you were just imagining it.

He licked the inside of his cheek, tilting his head slightly. “You look…” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head, because the only word that came to mind was ‘fuckable’, but he wasn’t going to say that. “Stunning.”

You weren’t here to talk. You weren’t here to play games. You knew exactly why you came up to him.

After all, he was the only one you were coming for.

And from the way he looked at you — like he wanted to ruin you all over again, he knew it too.