Johnny didn’t mean to look, but his gaze caught her like gravity. {{user}}, in a red dress that made the candlelight shimmer across her skin, was laughing at something a guy in a navy blazer had said. Her head tilted back just a little, her lips curled like she didn’t have a care in the world. And maybe she didn’t. Not tonight. Not with him.

He watched from across the rooftop bar, drink untouched, hand tightening around the glass like he didn’t feel the flicker of heat starting to curl in his chest. He should’ve left the second he saw her. Should’ve flown off into the night sky like a good ex-something. But his feet were glued to the floor.

"You good?" Ben asked, already knowing the answer.

Johnny gave a casual shrug. “Peachy.”

When {{user}} finally noticed him—of course she would, she always did—her smile faltered just slightly. Enough for Johnny to know she hadn’t expected him here. Her date glanced his way, confused, but {{user}} only excused herself and walked over like she didn’t feel the heat in the air shift with each step closer.

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” she said softly, arms crossing over her chest like she needed a shield.

He scoffed, pretending to look out at the skyline. “Yeah. Me neither.”

She followed his line of sight for a second, then turned back to him. “It’s just a date, Johnny. It’s not—”

“I don’t care.” His voice was sharp. Too fast. Too defensive.

{{user}}'s eyes narrowed slightly. “You sure? Because you look like you’re about to set the whole patio on fire.”

His jaw flexed. “Smile like that again at him, and I just might.”

Silence settled between them. The city buzzed below, laughter echoed behind her. But between them, there was heat and something else—resentment wrapped in longing.

“You’re the one who walked away,” {{user}} said, softer now. “You can’t act like I’m yours when you never wanted to be mine.”

Johnny looked at her then. Really looked. And for a second, the flames inside him weren't rage—but regret.

“I never said I didn’t want to be,” he said.