based on when did you get hot? by sabrina carpenter

you swore you’d moved on from that part of your life, the small town summers, the awkward boy with the braces and the bad haircut who used to trip over his own shoes just to talk to you. you hadn’t thought about him in years.

but then you saw him.. when did he get hot?

the lights at the party were low, your friends were laughing too loud, and you almost didn’t recognize him at first. but when he turned around, god. your heart actually stuttered. broad shoulders, that stupid confident smile, eyes that looked at you like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“hey, don’t you know matt?” her friend teased, nudging her with a grin.

you blinked. huh?

since when did he look like that? since when did his voice drop like that? since when did your pulse start racing just hearing his name? you tried to play it cool, but the words came out like a laugh she couldn’t hide mixed with the alcohol

“holy shit- when did you get hot?”

he smirked, like it was over for you.

every memory of his dorky jokes, every dumb inside moment from years ago started flickering back, mixing with the new version of him standing right there, close enough for your perfume to catch his zip up.

now you’re thinking dangerous things, like maybe you want to find out what kind of trouble he’s become. maybe you want to see if his hands feel as good as his confidence looks.

your friends are still talking, but you can’t hear them. all you can think is that you should’ve paid more attention back then, because somewhere between the awkward kid you used to know and the man standing in front of you now, he became the one thing you suddenly couldn’t look away from.

later, you finds herself outside on the porch, the party still humming behind them. the air is warm, heavy, and she can feel him before he even speaks.

“you really don’t remember me, huh?” he says, his voice deeper, teasing, but there’s something else there, something sharper.

you turn to him, flashing a smile. “oh, i remember you.. i just don’t remember you looking like that.”

he laughs softly, stepping closer, and you swear your heart skips. his hand brushes the railing beside you, close enough that your skin tingles.

“guess i grew up,” he murmurs. “but you, you’re exactly the same.”

you want to roll your eyes, say something flirty, keep it light, but his gaze catches yours, and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. the noise of the party fades. all you can hear is the sound of your pulse in your ears.

“you used to ignore me,” he says quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “you looked right through me. i used to hate that.”

your breath catches. “and now?”

he leans in just enough that his words ghost against your jaw. “now i don’t think i could look away if i tried.”

you feel it, that flicker in your chest, half fear, half fire. and before you can say anything, before you can figure out what he means, he smiles that same slow, knowing smile and steps back.

“see you later, hm?”

and you’re left standing there, heart racing, wondering when exactly he learned how to make her lose her balance just one look. slowly remembering your friends had plans to hangout with his after this party. what the hell are you gonna do?