I woke up with glitter in my hair, mascara smeared under my eyes, and a pounding in my chest that had nothing to do with champagne.
The first thing I saw when I opened my phone was his message again.
Don't worry. I'm good at pretending. For now.
I should've deleted it. I should've rolled my eyes, blocked his number, gotten back to my routine iced coffee, emails, my "new life, new focus" mantra on repeat.
Instead, I just sat there staring at the screen like a woman who'd forgotten how to breathe.
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. My best friend, Maya, had texted something about brunch plans and wedding anxiety, but I did not have the energy to reply. Not yet.
I dragged myself into the kitchen, poured coffee, and tried to convince my reflection in the window that last night was nothing. That I wasn't lying under fairy lights with my heart pounding like it was training for a marathon.
That I didn't wish for him to look at me like that again.
By the time I reached the office, I was in my armor cream blazer, lipstick, poise. The usual.
But the moment I stepped into the lobby, the mood changed.
He was there.
Leaning against the reception counter, same leather jacket, talking to our receptionist like he had nothing but time.
Ethan.
Of course.
I froze. I thought about ducking behind a ficus plant dignity be damned but he turned at that exact moment.
Our eyes met.
And his smile… well, it wasn't the "client" smile anymore. It was subdued, knowing.
"Morning, Tessa."
My heart did a perfect somersault. "You have no appointment today."
"Nope," he said. "Just dropped by to leave this off.".
He handed me a small square box the company project proposal USB drive inside. Totally innocent. Totally professional. Except he'd tied a piece of twine around it, like a gift.
"You left it at the party," he said, watching my face.
"I thank you," I stammered, trying not to look flustered. "You could've emailed.".
"I could've," he agreed. "But then I wouldn't get to see you try not to miss me."
I blinked. "You're imagining things."
He smiled again. "You're terrible at lying."
I had no time to respond before my boss's voice echoed down the hallway. "Tessa! Client meeting in ten!"
Saved by the bell or damned by it, depending on the outlook.
I spun around, ready to make a quick escape, but Ethan leaned in just a bit, voice low so that only I could hear.
"You can run all you want, Tessa. But I'm not the same as the others."
His voice wasn't teasing now. It was level, calm confident, but not arrogant. Like he meant it. Like he knew something I didn't.
And with that, he left.
Leaving me standing in the lobby, clutching a stupid USB drive and attempting to make sense of how one man could make me feel danger and safety at the same time.
I sat on my bed that evening and opened my journal the one I'd started after my last breakup, when I swore no more "wrong men."
I looked at the words I'd written months earlier:
Never confuse chaos with chemistry.
Never trust the ones who make your heart race more than your brain can reason.
I sighed, picked up my pen, and added a new line beneath:
Ethan Hale is trouble.
But for the first time in a while… I wasn't sure I wanted to escape it.
By nighttime, my "productive day" had officially turned into a total mess.
I'd triple-checked reports, messed up an email to a client, and spilled coffee on my skirt twice.
And during it all, Ethan's voice was repeating itself in my head:
"You can run all you want, Tessa. But I'm not the same as the others."
I hated that it sounded genuine.
Worse, I hated that I wanted to believe it.
When Maya called that night, I almost didn't pick up.
But she was insistent, and I couldn't avoid her forever.
"You snuck out of the party last night," she said as soon as I answered. "Daniel thought you'd gone home early because of the champagne. I think it's because of him."
I didn't even question who "him" was. "Maya."
"Don't 'Maya' me, Tess. You were radiant when I saw you outside. I haven't seen that look since"
"Don't say it.".
"Since Leo," she said regardless, her voice gentling.
I flinched. The name was a bruise that was still healing.
"I'm not doing that again," I said quietly. "I'm not falling for another guy who looks at me like I'm some puzzle he's trying to solve. I'm finished being someone's distraction."
There was a silence.
"What if you're not a distraction this time?"
Her words carried more weight than she likely meant them to.
I'll speak to you later," I said, not wishing to sob into my takeout.
I hung up and went across to the window, gazing out over the city the same skyline I had once thought heralded new beginnings. Now it was just a reminder that no matter how far you run, the past learns new ways of catching up.
Then my phone buzzed.
Ethan: You left your scarf in my car last night.
I frowned. "I didn't even get in your car."
Tessa: Nice try. I didn't.
Ethan: You did, when I drove you back to get your purse. You were too busy arguing with me to notice.
Tessa: I wasn't arguing. I was correcting.
Ethan: Sure. Anyway, I'll drop the scarf by tomorrow.
I hesitated, typing and erasing three responses.
At last, I settled on:
Tessa: You can just drop it at reception.
Ethan: Not as fun.
I let out a loud sigh, tossing the phone onto the couch.
He was impossible. Frustrating. Persistent.
And yet… the prospect of maybe seeing him again tomorrow had my heart skipping in a manner that scared me.
I picked up my rulebook journal again and wrote down another line:
If you have to remind yourself to stay away, it's already too late.
The city hummed below me. I could decipher laughter floating up from the sidewalk, couples walking hand in hand, life continuing individuals taking risks I was too afraid to take.
And maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop blaming the wrong shoes and the wrong rules for an excuse to conceal.
Because maybe… the right one doesn't always come in a tidy little box. Sometimes he comes on a bike, with a stubborn smile and a heart you never expected to trust again.
Sleep didn't come easily that night.
When I closed my eyes, I saw that rooftop the lights, the way his eyes had gentled when he said my name, the way I'd felt… seen. And it scared me.
Since I'd promised myself I'd never need anyone to gaze at me again.
By 2 a.m., I gave up on sleep altogether. I got out my laptop, poured a glass of wine, and lost myself in work pretending that a half-completed marketing proposal was more interesting than the memory of Ethan's smile.
But my mind betrayed me.
I couldn't help rerunning little things: the way he always heard me out without interrupting, the way he recalled that I took my coffee with honey instead of sugar, the way his laughter seemed to light up the corners of a room.
No. Stop.
I shut the laptop.
He's just another distraction, I told myself. Just another guy with good timing and a nice smile.
I'd worked too hard to rebuild my life. To be okay with myself. To finally be the Tessa who didn't require anyone else's approval.
And yet, hadn't I also promised myself that I was going to begin saying yes to new things? To no longer use fear disguised as discipline as a hiding place?
My brain was spinning, tug-of-war style, when I felt my phone buzz again.
Ethan: Still awake?
I stared at the message. The time stamp read 2:27 a.m.
I didn't answer.
But he must have seen the "typing" bubble appear, because another message arrived:
Ethan: Couldn't sleep either. It's okay if you don't answer. Just… don't think too much about what happened last night. It was real, Tessa. That's all.
My heart flipped. Because I was thinking about it every word, every glance.
He didn't send another message. He didn't need to. That one stayed glowing on my screen, steady as a heartbeat.
I set the phone down beside me, crawled back into bed, and whispered to the dark,
"You're trouble, Ethan Hale."
But the truth was… not all trouble felt bad.
And when I finally did sleep, I dreamt of headlights cutting through fog, the rumble of a motorcycle, and a man who looked back at me like I was something he'd seek out twice.