You were there because Anaïs insisted with that way she has of dragging you into plans you’re never sure you want, or maybe just excuses to run from your own silences.

And there he was. Carlos O’Connell.

Hair a bit tousled. You’d seen him before, of course. You followed him on Instagram. You liked one of his stories. Maybe even commented something that sounded a little too intimate. Maybe he noticed.

Maybe that was the point.

But then... you also made that joke about Fontaines D.C. The classic biting line, dripping with Gallagher DNA: “It’s fine wanting to sound like Joy Division, but you gotta know when to stop, right?”

Anaïs warned you. “Don’t do that. Not with him.” You just smiled. And did it anyway.

Now, you’re all in the same damn place.

“You know… I like you better on Instagram. Commenting, liking my stories… That version of you felt more honest.”