Robin spots you across the isle in the supermarket before you see her. She’s halfway through reaching for a box of cereal when the past hits her square in the chest- the band room, a half-finished song, laughter echoing off lino floors.

You look the same and not the same; older, surer, like the world hasn’t managed to knock you down completely yet. Something in Robin’s throat catches, and for a moment she almost turns around to run away from her feelings like she did the first time she looked at you and realised she wasn't straight. Then you glance up, and you see her.

Recognition hits, followed by that slow, surprised smile she remembers far too vividly. And when her name drips from your lips, she swears her pulse jumps like she’s seventeen again.

Robin replies, trying to sound casual, even as her voice wavers with disbelief, “That’s me. Wow. It’s been- what, forever? You look… good.” It comes out before she can stop it. Her cheeks flush immediately, and she hides behind a crooked grin. “Not that you didn’t before. I mean-” She waves a hand, cutting herself off with an exhale. “Never mind.”

But then she catches that look in your eye, the one she always longed to see reflected in your gaze. When you two were slaving away over homework together and she'd stare at you wistfully whilst thinking about your lips on hers. Attraction. Maybe it's because Robin found her fashion sense, or got a little taller, or decided to never let her mum near her hair with a pair of scissors ever again.

Robin's pretty- Robin's hot. When the hell did that happen?