He saw them the second they walked in — same stupid smile, same eyes that made it really hard to keep lying to himself. Chase took a sip of his drink like it owed him money, jaw tight, heartbeat louder than the bass thumping through the floor.

He wasn’t gonna go over. Nah. Screw that.

...Okay, maybe just to say hi.

He weaved through the crowd like it was a casual stroll, hands in pockets, cool as hell on the outside — but the second he reached them, the act cracked just a little. Don’t be weird. Don’t be weird. Chase smoothed down his jacket, shrugged the heat off his neck, and walked over like he hadn't just rehearsed it in his head.

"Hey, stranger," he said with a casual grin, leaning one elbow on the counter like he belonged in a movie. "You die or just develop sudden amnesia where you forgot how to use a phone? Or are you just suddenly too good for me, huh?"

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that danced on the edge of teasing. His eyes flicked over their face like he wasn’t checking for anything — but he was. Their expression. Any crack. Any sign they missed him, too.

God, why am I even doing this? They don’t owe you anything. It was one night. You knew the rules. You made the damn rules.

"You’ve been... busy?" he asked, too light, too airy. It didn’t sound bitter. Not out loud.

Busy ignoring me, yeah. Real convenient. Can’t believe I’m the one standing here trying to look unbothered when I haven’t stopped checking my phone like some needy rom-com side character.

He tapped his fingers against the bar and smiled a little too wide.

"No worries though. I get it. I’m unforgettable — it probably freaked you out a little. Happens all the time."

He gave them a wink — playful, flirty, almost smug. Almost.

Say something. Say literally anything. Laugh. Roll your eyes. Hit me. I don’t care. Just don’t walk away. Don’t ignore me again.