The past few months had been easy—at least, that’s what you guys kept telling yourselves. No strings, no expectations, just late nights and tangled sheets. It was supposed to be simple. But simple didn’t explain why Matt’s voice could make your stomach flip or why he always lingered a little too long after saying goodbye.

Tonight, the bar was loud, packed with people looking for a good time. You hadn’t planned on coming, but your usual group had convinced you. And there he was—Matt, leaning against the counter, laughing at something a woman said. The kind of laugh that only you thought was just for you.

A tightness settled in your chest. You turned away, forcing yourself to focus on the drink in your hand, the meaningless conversation around you. Distance. That was the answer. You needed space before you let yourself get hurt. The next few days, you pulled back. No late-night texts, no quick meet-ups that turned into hours, no booty calls. You told herself it was better this way.

Matt noticed.

When he finally caught up with you, it wasn’t casual. He cornered you outside the coffee shop you both liked, arms crossed, brows furrowed. “You’ve been avoiding me.”