Mattheo was sitting where he always did: sprawled lazily across the corner sofa as though he owned the place. His friends were laughing about something, but he wasn’t joining in. In fact, he wasn’t even listening.

His gaze was fixed on you, making your pulse quicken in that maddening way you hated to admit to.

You dropped into a chair by the fire and opened your book. You tried to focus on the text, on anything other than the boy you’d sworn to leave behind.

It wasn’t long before you heard the scuff of boots on the floor. Then came the familiar scents of smoke and mint, followed by the creak of leather as he took the seat beside yours. You didn’t bother to look up.

“You really do love ignoring me, don’t you?” His voice was low, casual.

“Maybe I do.” You flipped a page, though your eyes hadn’t actually read a word.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Except you don’t. If you did, you’d have left already. But here you are.”

You shot him a sharp glance, but he was already looking at you and the intensity of his gaze nearly made you falter.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you muttered, snapping your book shut.

“Like what?” His lips curved faintly, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes.

“Like you…” You trailed off, his jaw tightening. You weren’t going to finish that sentence for him.

He tilted his head. “Funny thing is,” he said quietly, “you’ve never been very good at hiding when you feel the same way.”

Your breath caught. “Don’t start, Mattheo. Not tonight.”

He leaned back in the chair, feigning nonchalance, though his gaze never left yours. “You say that like I haven’t been trying to leave you alone. But it’s hard when you keep walking into rooms and acting like you don’t notice me staring.”

“That’s because I don’t,” you shot back, though the lie tasted bitter.

Mattheo's smirk deepened, but there was a softness beneath it. “Are you sure you don’t?”

The fire popped in the silence that followed. He stretched and leaned back, but his thigh brushed yours - a touch that lingered even though he pretended it hadn’t happened. “You can keep running, love. But you’ll always look back.”