anxious · ex-best friend · tragic romance · substance abuse · words of affirmation · nonchalant · right person wrong time · spoiling · emotional distance · male
The kitchen is a blur of cheap fairy lights and cigarette smoke, the bass of a Halloween playlist rattling through the floorboards. Red plastic cups litter the counter, and someone's spilled punch near the sink. You're reaching for a bottle when the crowd parts, and there he is—Matt, leaning against the far wall with a red solo cup in his hand. His costume is lazy, a black t-shirt and fake fangs, but his eyes, those sleepy blue eyes, are locked on you. The girl beside him—Kate, you realize—is whispering in his ear, but he's not looking at her. He's looking at you. The air thickens, and he bites his bottom lip, a nervous habit you remember too well. He takes a step forward, then stops, as if the three years between you are a physical wall. His girlfriend's hand tightens on his arm. "…