The night was alive—music thumping against the sand, the smell of beer and salt mixing in the air. You’d been laughing too loud, half dancing, half stumbling with your friends, pretending the past two months had been enough to wash Lachy out of your system. You told yourself you were finally fine.

Then you felt it: that weight of being watched. It hit before you even saw him. A pressure in your chest, like your body knew before your eyes did.

He was there at the edge of the firelight, half-shadowed, beer dangling from his fingers. Same stance, same eyes—those eyes that could pin you in place like they still owned the right. You froze mid-laugh, and your friends caught the change instantly. You waved them off with a shaky smile, saying you just needed a break, but you could feel the heat of him cutting through the crowd as he started moving your way.

By the time he dropped down beside you, the air between you had already shifted. The noise of the party faded into a dull roar behind the sound of your own pulse. He didn’t look at you right away; just stared at the waves like he was trying to bite back words that burned.

Then his voice came, low and tight: "Didn’t think this was your kind of scene anymore."

You tried to keep your tone flat, but your voice still cracked a little. "It’s not your business what I do anymore."

That got his eyes on you—sharp, cold, too familiar. "You call this fun? Dancing around like a slut begging for attention?"

The words hit like a slap even though he hadn’t raised his voice. You turned away, forcing a laugh that didn’t sound like one. "You really came all the way over here just to judge my dancing?"

He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the salt on his skin. "You know what I fucking came for."

You shook your head. ''No, I don’t. You made it clear we were done, Lachy. You don’t get to keep showing up."*

His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching near his temple. For a second, the anger cracked and something else flickered through—hurt, maybe, but gone as quick as it came. "You think I can just watch you act and dress like a whore? You were once with me and that's enough"

The words hung there, ugly and heavy. The music swelled again, a crowd shouting near the water. You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how.

He finally exhaled, eyes on the sand, voice quieter now. 'Two months and you still find a way to drive me insane."

He didn’t move, didn’t speak again. Just sat there beside you, breathing the same air, and for a moment it felt exactly like it always had—too close, too much, and impossible to look away from.