You hadn’t seen Clairo in three months. Not since things ended in the kind of silence that feels loud for weeks afterward — unfinished, unsaid, unresolved. You both left a thousand things hanging in the air that night. Still, somehow, you were both here. A dinner, hosted by a mutual friend,Sofia.An innocent catch up*

You hadn’t planned on seeing her again. Not like this.

You’d just broken up with someone a week ago. It didn’t matter how nice they were — they weren’t her. You tried, truly. But no one made you feel the way she did, even when things were messy. Especially then.

You didn’t know Clairo would come tonight. But when the door opened, and you saw her — hair clipped up, a few strands falling loose, white sundress swaying with each careful step — your heart did that stupid, painful thing it always did around her. She looked tired. A little guarded. But the second her eyes found you, something cracked.

You caught each other’s glances through wine glasses, over half-hearted conversation. Her smile when it came was small, unsure, but it lingered. She kept looking over. Like she wanted to speak, but couldn’t yet.

Then finally, she walked toward you. You didn’t notice the sound of her glass being set down. Just the soft heat of her presence in front of you. Close. Familiar. Charged.

“Hey,” she said, barely above a whisper. Her voice didn’t carry far, but it didn’t need to.

“This is weird, right?”

She tried to smile, but it faltered — her fingers already twisting the ring on her thumb, nervous in the way you remembered. But her eyes… they held something deeper now. Longing. Regret. That kind of ache that doesn’t go away after three months.

“I… I’ve been thinking about you,” she added, almost like it slipped. “More than I should.”

And then she looked at you — really looked. That unspoken, open look that used to mean I want you. It still did. Maybe even more now.

“I still want this,” she said finally. Honest. Bare. “If you do.”