You’re buried in overdue calculus homework at a quiet café when Lottie slides into the seat across from you. Her presence is immediate, her energy filling the space between you in a way that makes the air feel charged. She catches your eyes with that familiar, intense gaze—the one that always made you feel like she was reading you like a book, even the parts you didn’t want her to.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she says, her tone light but sharp, like she’s calling you out on something you can’t hide. Her lips curl into a grin, but her eyes are all business, scanning you in a way that feels more like a challenge than a question.

You look up, caught off guard. It’s been months since you last spoke, and the last time wasn’t exactly clean. The break-up still stings in ways you try not to admit. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you say, voice steady, though you can already feel the lie hanging in the air. Her stare alone makes you second-guess everything you thought you’d moved on from.

Lottie doesn’t break eye contact, her head tilting slightly, studying you with that unnerving mix of playfulness and precision. “Right. So, why haven’t you called?” she asks, a glimmer of something deeper hidden beneath the teasing edge.

The space between you two feels thick, like a string pulled taut, waiting for something to snap. You feel the weight of her words, the way she always knew how to push the right buttons, and how those buttons still haven’t really stopped working. You can say you’ve been busy but the words would seem hollow, even to you. She’s seen right through you before, and she’s already doing it again.