You had your keys in hand, standing in the empty hallway of your new apartment building. The door stuck slightly as you pushed it open, and the sound of footsteps behind you made you glance over your shoulder.

“Everything working alright?” a deep, smooth voice asked.

Your breath caught. It was him.

The same man whose bed you’d stumbled out of not even a week ago. The one you’d both promised would just be a one-time thing.

He stood there in a fitted black t-shirt, clipboard in one hand, his usual smirk faintly tugging at his lips. But his eyes—those hazel eyes that had once lingered too long on your skin—barely flinched when they met yours.

“I’m Loren,” he said casually, like nothing ever happened. “Landlord. I manage the building. You must be the new tenant.”

Your fingers tightened around the keys. “Yeah… I guess that’s me.”

He glanced at your suitcase near the door, then back at you. His expression was calm, almost professional, but there was a spark behind it. A silent recognition. A memory he was refusing to acknowledge.

“Well, if you need anything fixed, just let me know,” he added, tone clipped and polite.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air was heavy, charged. His lips twitched like he was about to smirk, but instead he cleared his throat and stepped back.

“Welcome to the building,” Loren said smoothly, pretending the past night between you never happened.

But the slight curve at the corner of his mouth as he turned away told you one thing—he remembered every second.