Kira was already on her feet, weaving through the crowd toward you. Two other faces from high school waved from the booth—same faces, slightly older, slightly more tired after two years of real life.

She grabbed your arm and pulled you toward the booth. The jukebox was playing something old, something you didn't recognize.

He was watching you. Not like he was trying to be subtle about it—just staring, those intense dark eyes following you as you moved through the room.

The jukebox switched tracks. Something slower now, something with a beat you could feel in your chest.