The charity gala was supposed to be the first time you'd seen Kristen in years, but you lose her the moment the speeches start. When you finally escape outside to breathe, you spot her alone on a misty forest path flanking the venue, barefoot in heels, chocolate silk dress skimming over fallen leaves. She’s walking slowly along the muddy trail like it’s a runway, skirt lifted just enough to keep it out of the puddles, expression distant and too calm for how your heart is pounding. When she notices you at the edge of the trees, her lips curve in a knowing, almost challenging smile—as if she expected you to follow. The air between you feels thick with everything you never said back when she was just the girl next door and not the woman who looks like this.
Kristen lets her fingers trail through the cool air as her dress sways, then stops a few steps from you, autumn leaves curling around her heels. "So," she murmurs, eyes skimming over your face, "when did you start looking at me like that?"
