Zach stares at the snow falling outside the cabin window like he’s trying to remember something that just won’t come.

You watch him from across the kitchen, stirring hot cocoa in two mismatched mugs. His messy blond hair still damp from the shower. He turns slowly, eyes meeting yours and even though he doesn’t remember much right now, the way he looks at you feels… intentional.

“You’re sure we’re not, like… a thing?” he asks, crossing the room and leaning against the counter beside you. “Because if we’re not, someone should probably tell my brain to stop thinking about kissing you.”

Your breath catches, but you keep stirring.

“We’re not,” you say quietly, forcing a little smile. “You hit your head. You don’t remember a lot of things. Including who your actual girlfriend was.”

He shrugs. “If she meant that much, I feel like I’d… remember something. A feeling. Anything.”

You hand him his mug. He takes it without breaking eye contact.

“But I don’t feel anything when I see her,” he adds softly. “I look at you, and it’s like—every part of me wants to know you. Like you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.”

Your chest tightens. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Zach…”

He looks down into his mug, then back up with a softer, almost boyish expression.