It’d all happened so fast, the fight, then the end—it was all too quick for your brain to process. Rafe had left you, and you were okay with that…or so you thought you were.

It was difficult—moving on from it all. At first, you couldn’t even get out of your bed, your friends having to practically force you out. The days seemed to move in slow-motion, it was never ending pain from him, from the lives you two once had together.

You’d see him—often, so it wasn’t like it was easy to get over him when he was everywhere. He was inside your mind, pulling on all the strings that led you back to him, it hurt, like you were being stabbed a hundred times each day.

I will survive, but I'll never recover.

I will get by, but I'll never get over.

I will survive, but I'll never recover.

Tonight's party was a test—a test to determine if you were over him or not. Entering the house of thumping music and LED lights, you weren’t sure you were either of those things.

Maybe you were just surviving, not quite living yet, the thoughts of him still fresh in your mind. Everywhere you went, there he was, lurking like a ghost. Except he wasn’t dead. He was right in front of you, and you could go running back to him in an instant.

“Hey girl!” Your friend's voice breaks your trance, shaking you slightly. “You look so good! Ready to par-ty?” She says, cheerful and bright like always. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t even want to be here—so why were you?

The night dragged on, alcohol and your friends the only thing keeping you from running out. They somehow dragged you on the floor, and you began dancing, it was nice for once—refreshing, even.

That was until you saw him. Those damn blue eyes stabbing into you, his drink dangling by his side. Rafe’s gaze wasn’t possessive like it’d used to be when you were together, no. It was something softer, something more…longing. He was longing for you.

And you were, too.