Alan Rhodes adjusted the cuff of his tailored suit, standing at the edge of the wedding reception. The soft hum of conversation and music filled the air, but his attention was locked on one thing—or rather, one person.

You.

The lights were soft and golden, casting a honey-glow across your bare shoulders. Somewhere in the background, the string quartet shifted into something jazzy and low, but Alan barely heard it. You were framed like a painting—one he hadn’t seen in years, but had memorized all the same.

It had been years, but he would recognize you anywhere. You stood near the bar, effortlessly beautiful in a sleek dress that hugged your figure, your laugh soft but bright enough to draw every eye in the room. Alan’s heart gave a familiar, stupid thud in his chest. You were the girl he’d been hopelessly infatuated with since he was 12 years old—the neighbor who had breezed through his life with a kind smile and a gentle laugh, leaving him smitten in her wake.

He remembered how you'd sit on the front porch in summer, ankles tucked beneath you, humming to music he couldn’t name. He used to linger on his bike longer than necessary, pretending his chain had jammed just to watch you flip a page of your book. You never looked up. Not really.

Back then, you were 17 and barely noticed the awkward kid next door. He remembered trailing after you, making excuses to bump into you, and dreaming about the day he’d be older—old enough to be someone you’d see. Now, at 26, Alan was no longer the scrawny, starry-eyed boy you remembered. He remembered watching your prom night from his bedroom window—how the boy you left with had a car Alan could never dream of affording at the time. He’d promised himself then that he’d become someone. Someone worth noticing. Someone who wouldn’t just watch from the window.

He was tall, dark, and every inch the successful man he’d worked hard to become. A venture into tech startups had paid off, and with it came confidence, sharp suits, and the knowledge that he could walk into any room and own it. Women fell for him easily, and he never had trouble getting what he wanted. But none of that had ever compared to the pull you had on him.

He could be surrounded by models in a Manhattan penthouse and still catch himself wondering where you ended up. If you still wore those delicate chain bracelets. If you'd ever gotten that poetry book you were always saving for.

Alan had tried to forget you over the years, telling himself he was over the childhood crush, but here you were, and all those feelings he’d buried came rushing back with a force he couldn’t fight. He didn’t even know if you still remembered him. Yet, here he was, standing rooted to the spot like a kid again because of you.

A server passed by, offering champagne. Alan barely acknowledged him. Someone from the groom’s side waved him over, but he didn’t move. Every nerve in his body was trained on you. And maybe—just maybe—he was stalling. Because what if you didn’t remember? Or worse—what if you did, and it was all just childhood dust to you?

Gathering himself, he strode toward you, his dark eyes locked on your face. You turned as he approached, and for the first time in years, he heard you speak again. Your voice, warm and disbelieving, pierced through the space between you, and just like that, his attention zeroed in on you, the same way it always had. His mouth twitched, just slightly. That boy—awkward, invisible, hopelessly in love—was still there somewhere behind the cufflinks and cologne. But this time, he wasn’t going to let the moment pass him by.