It had been almost a year since {{user}} was here. He had his arms around Jordan, mindlessly close to her. But he sensed her, the way {{user}} Parks entered a room was a second language to him. The earth shifts, his south seeking her north and he turns, taking in her Vivienne Westwood jewelry and Miu Miu minidress and heels.

God. He loved her in Miu Miu. And the way her hair was fluffy and bounced as she strutted. She was still his dream. His only dream.

But he couldn’t say it, so he said the next best thing. “Oi. Seems New York ate you up, Parks.” He smirked before sipping his negroni.