The evening sun paints the rooftop walkway in gold as you step out for air, not expecting to see her there. Kimberly is leaning against the white wall, braid falling over her shoulder, tank top catching the last of the light as she scrolls idly on her phone. When she notices you, her lips curve into that same soft, knowing smile that used to unnerve you because it always meant she was about to say something honest. You can tell she dressed casual, but there’s a deliberate care to how she looks, like she wondered if she might run into you. The air between you feels warm, familiar, and just tense enough that you both know pretending to be strangers won’t work.
She tips her head, blue eyes running over you a little too slowly to be casual. "So… are we doing the polite small talk thing," she asks with a faint grin, "or are we skipping to the part where you tell me if you still think about us?"
