It was a bad idea. That much was obvious.

Ask anyone, in any situation, and they will tell you that hooking up with your ex is a terrible, horrendous, horrifically stupid idea. They hadn't even spoken to each other in a few months. Art had the displeasure of missing her stupid laugh, her beautiful face, the way her eyes sparkled when she looked at him. It was the hardest thing he'd ever experienced, missing her. But all his friends told him no. No way he was going back.

The breakup had been messy, and about something stupid. About how Art was always busy with tennis, never made any time for her. They'd yelled, and argued, and screamed. Things were thrown. Both physical trinkets and words that neither of them really meant. But it'd driven a vast bridge between them that they hadn't been able to cross yet.

But he was out right now, some stupid frat party. She'd always hated these. He was relatively drunk, but incredibly messed up in the head. Sound of mind enough he could make his own decisions, just bleary enough that his confidence got a little boost. And when his phone got a ping, and it was her, he couldn't help answering.

She was home alone, she said. There was some undertone to that, like she wanted him to come over. Sure enough, following their very brief conversation, he got a message with her new address in it. He was standing, surrounded by all his friends, and all he could think about was going to her apartment and leaving this party. He knew it was done, through, but god, every time he looked at her pictures, his brain went numb and he acted off the guidance of another particular area in his body.

He probably shouldn't. Seeing her tonight was a bad idea.

Fuck it, it's fine.

Before he knew it, he was wrecking all his evening plans and getting in his car. He knew he should stop, and turn around. But he couldn't. He'd already told all his friends he was just going to go home, go to sleep. That was true - he'd just never said in who's sheets he was going to sleep in.

Yeah, he knew he was her ex, and it was a bit of an issue. But couldn't two people reconnect? It'd been months. Maybe he deserved a reunion with her. They owed it to each other. He only saw as a friend, after all (biggest lie he'd ever said).

He pulled up to her apartment, turned the key, practically ran up to the second floor. She was already there waiting for him at the door, smiling in a way that made him forget why they had even broken up in the first place. Lips parted, hair curled, in a robe that left very, very little to the imagination. He was sure he'd seen prettier girls. But he just couldn't seem to remember when that had been. He couldn't even hear his thoughts.

"Hey." He breathed, looking down at her with his own slightly flushed cheeks. "You called?"