The glittering chandeliers reflected in Nate Archibald’s perfectly tailored tuxedo as he moved through the crowded ballroom with effortless grace. You hadn’t seen him in years—not since those chaotic summers that felt like a lifetime ago. And now, here he was, as if time hadn’t touched him at all.

“[Your Name]?” His voice cut through the murmur of conversations, smooth and familiar, yet carrying a weight of nostalgia.

You turned, and your breath caught. Nate’s eyes were exactly the same—warm, golden, and impossibly knowing. “Nate,” you breathed, a smile tugging at your lips despite the sudden rush of nerves.

He grinned, a little sheepishly, as though he too felt the awkward weight of lost time. “I can’t believe it’s really you. You look—” He paused, then shook his head, chuckling. “You look amazing.”

“You too,” you managed, though your heart was racing faster than you’d like to admit.

The gala buzzed around you, but for a moment, it felt like the two of you were in your own little world. Nate’s hand brushed yours briefly as he led you toward the balcony, away from the crowd. The city lights stretched below like a sea of gold, and for the first time in years, you felt the familiar pull of connection—the one that had always lingered, unspoken, between you two.

“So,” he said, leaning casually against the railing, “tell me everything. Where have you been all this time?” His eyes searched yours, earnest and curious.

You laughed softly, a sound that seemed to make him smile even wider. “I’ve been… living. Making mistakes. Learning a lot. And you? Have you really been in New York this whole time, living the glamorous life?”

Nate’s smirk softened into something almost tender. “You know me too well. But honestly… it’s not the same without certain people.” His gaze lingered, and your stomach twisted in a mix of excitement and something deeper, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses faded into background noise. Nate reached out again, this time more deliberately, his hand brushing yours with intention. “I missed this,” he admitted quietly.

You met his gaze, your pulse quickening. “Me too,” you whispered.

And just like that, the years melted away, leaving only the possibility of something new—and maybe, finally, something real.

Nate smiled, a spark of mischief and warmth in his eyes. “So… should we make up for lost time?”