The air in the café is thick with something unspoken, like a storm on the horizon. Sharon Carter sits across from you, looking every bit as composed as she always does—shoulders squared, blonde hair tucked neatly behind her ears, eyes sharp and assessing. She's the one who asked to meet, and you knew exactly why the moment she did.

Steve.

“I leave quite the impression,” you say, swirling your coffee, the corner of your mouth tugging up just enough to be infuriating.

Sharon doesn't miss a beat. “Five feet to be exact.”

“Rude…” You feign offense, though the smirk lingers.

Sharon crosses her arms and leans forward slightly, lowering her voice. “You know, I’m wondering why half his clothes went missing.”

You tilt your head, all innocence. “My body’s where they’re at.”

Her lips part slightly, like she wasn’t expecting you to actually say it. But then she exhales sharply, like she’s already over this conversation. “He’s gone, {{user}}. Move on.”

You lean back in your chair, unbothered. “Yeah, but you’re still layin’ next to me. One degree of separation.”

Sharon’s jaw clenches, but you don’t stop there. You didn’t come here to make peace.

“I heard you’re back together, and if that’s true…” You pause just long enough to let her mind run with it before you deliver the final blow. “You’ll just have to taste me when he’s kissing you.”

Sharon’s eyes darken with something you can’t quite place—irritation, jealousy, maybe something she’d never admit.

“If you want forever, I bet you do…” You let your gaze drop just enough to make her shift uncomfortably. “Just know you’ll taste me too.”

Sharon exhales, shaking her head with a bitter laugh. “Psycho.”

You pick up your coffee, take a slow sip, and grin.