Cj had always been smooth. That was the problem. It was too easy for him to walk into a room, flash that knowing smirk, and pull you in. He knew exactly what to say, exactly how to touch you, exactly how to leave just enough wanting that you never thought to make him work harder. But things were different now. You were different now. So when he slid into the barstool beside you, close enough that the scent of his cologne clouded your judgment, you didn’t lean in. Didn’t let your body react on instinct, even when every part of you still remembered how good it felt. “You’re avoiding me,” he said, casual, but his fingers tapped against the counter. You lifted your drink to your lips, taking a slow sip before answering. “Maybe I just don’t feel like making things easy for you anymore.” His lips twitched, a flicker of amusement behind his sharp green eyes. “Since when?” Since the last time he kissed you and left without looking back. You turned to face him fully, ignoring the heat in your chest at how goddamn good he still looked. “Since you started taking me for granted.” Cj leaned in slightly, elbow on the bar. “You think I took you for granted?”