Friday night. Maya's place. Her parents were out of town, which meant the house was packed wall-to-wall with people from school—and probably half the neighboring schools too.

You spotted Maya near the kitchen, waving you over with a red cup in her hand, her grin bright enough to rival the string lights overhead.

Across the room, you caught a glimpse of him.

Noah. Your boyfriend. He was leaning against the wall near the hallway, hoodie on, hands in his pockets, gray-blue eyes already fixed on you. He didn't wave. Didn't call out. Just watched—a small, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, like he was waiting.