Chapter Four
1011 Words
The Reunion
“OHHH.”
“No way.”
“He actually came?”
I blinked slowly.
The alcohol was starting to hit properly now because suddenly everyone sounded slightly underwater.
“Who?” I asked.
“Someone popular,” Mika said dramatically.
“That narrows it down to absolutely no one.”
She laughed.
But the group’s attention had already shifted toward the entrance.
Girls fixing their hair.
Guys greeting someone loudly.
I frowned slightly.
Who was important enough to cause all that?
“You know what,” I muttered while standing carefully, “I need the bathroom.”
“You good to walk?” Pat asked.
I gave her a thumbs up.
Immediately regretted it when the room tilted slightly.
“Wow.”
“Jesus Christ,” Mika muttered. “You’re actually drunk.”
“I’m experiencing character development.”
They laughed as I walked away carefully.
The bathroom was quieter.
Cooler.
I splashed water lightly against my face and stared at myself in the mirror.
Definitely tipsy.
My cheeks were warm.
My thoughts fuzzy around the edges.
“Good job,” I mumbled to my reflection. “Now you’re unemployed and drunk.”
Amazing combination.
After a minute, I finally decided to go back before my friends assumed I had died somewhere.
The rooftop looked even louder when I returned.
I walked carefully between tables until I spotted our group again.
Only—
Someone was sitting in my chair.
I slowed slightly.
From behind, all I could really see was broad shoulders stretching against a fitted black shirt.
And honestly?
That alone was offensive.
The fabric clung to his back every time he moved, outlining lean muscle underneath like the shirt had been personally designed to ruin people’s peace. Dark hair brushed the back of his neck slightly messy, like he’d been running his hand through it all night.
Even sitting down, he looked unfairly tall.
The kind of man people noticed automatically.
The kind of man who carried confidence without trying.
I frowned slightly.
Who the hell was this?
Still mildly drunk, I walked closer.
“Um,” I started politely, “sorry, I think you’re sitting in my seat.”
The conversation around the table suddenly died.
Completely.
Weird.
The man slowly turned around.
And my entire brain stopped functioning.
Oh.
Oh no.
Because I knew that face.
I knew those eyes.
That teasing little smile already forming before he even fully looked at me.
Except the little boy I remembered was gone.
In his place was someone sharper.
Older.
Ridiculously attractive in a way that almost felt mean.
His jawline was more defined now. His features matured into something calm and masculine and devastatingly handsome. Dark eyes held mine steadily with quiet amusement, and somehow that made my heart panic harder.
How did the boy from my memories turn into this?
One side of his mouth lifted slowly.
“Hi, Clara.”
My stomach dropped violently.
That voice.
Lower now.
Warm.
Familiar anyway.
I stared at him like my brain was buffering.
“…Reig?”
His smile widened slightly.
“There she is.”
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
I suddenly became hyperaware of everything.
The fact that I was drunk.
The fact that my face felt warm.
The fact that I probably looked insane staring at him.
And worst of all—
The fact that he still looked at me like he recognized me immediately.
Like years hadn’t passed at all.
“You—” I stopped. “You’re back?”
Smooth, Clara.
Very elegant.
Very composed.
Reig leaned back casually in my chair like he belonged there. “Just arrived this morning.”
“That’s why he missed the first part,” someone explained excitedly.
I barely heard them.
Because my brain was still trying to process the fact that Reig Miller—my elementary school crush, first heartbreak, first what-if—was sitting right in front of me looking like every woman’s bad decision.
“This is your chair?” he asked innocently.
I blinked.
“…Yes?”
“Hm.”
And then this man smiled.
Actually smiled.
Slow and teasing.
“Guess you’ll have to sit beside me then.”
The table exploded immediately.
“Oh my God.”
“BRO.”
“Finally.”
I stared at them in horror. “What does that mean?”
“No meaning!” Mika answered way too quickly.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
Meanwhile, Reig looked entirely too entertained.
I suddenly remembered every embarrassing thing from elementary school all at once.
The notes.
The staring.
The fact that I once cried because another girl held his hand during a field trip.
Dear God.
Kill me now.
“You look nervous,” he said softly.
“I’m drunk,” I corrected immediately.
His eyes flickered slightly with amusement.
“That explains it.”
Why did his voice sound like that?
Why did he smell so good?
Why was he looking directly at me like I was the only person at the table?
I hated this already.
Someone pulled another chair beside him for me.
Traitors.
I sat down carefully.
Too carefully.
Like sudden movements might kill me.
Reig glanced at my drink.
“How much did you have?”
“Enough.”
“That’s not a number.”
“I don’t count when I’m emotionally distressed.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Emotionally distressed?”
I pointed vaguely around us. “Everyone here has a future.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Immediately, embarrassment flooded through me.
Great.
Now I was trauma dumping.
I stared down at the table quickly. “Forget I said that.”
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
And somehow that silence felt gentler than pity.
Then quietly—
“You always think too hard.”
I looked up.
His expression had softened slightly.
Not judgmental.
Not mocking.
Just… looking at me.
Really looking at me.
Like he could still read me after all these years.
And somehow that felt more dangerous than anything else tonight.
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