Everything is still the same.
Same slanted ceiling.
Same window overlooking the backyard.
Same scuffed dresser.
Same yellowing concert posters I never took down.
And the same damn mattress.
I drop my suitcase, my breath catching in my throat.The air in here is stale, dusty—but underneath it, I swear I can still smell her.
Vanilla.Sugar.Something warm and sweet and home.
Memories slam into me so hard I have to grip the edge of the bed to stay upright.
This is where I made love to Adrianna Bosco for the first time.
For both of us.
Seventeen and stupidly in love.
Hands shaking, hearts racing, convinced we were the only two people in the universe.
I remember every detail—every sound she made, every way she touched me like she already owned my soul.I remember thinking if heaven existed, it was lying right here, in my arms.
Jesus Christ.
I swear I thought my heart was going to leap straight out of my chest and into hers the first time I saw her.
“Goddamn, Ad.I miss you.”
The words come out as a whisper, a confession to a room that can’t answer back.
I brace both hands on the mattress, shaking my head.
I fucked it up.
I know I did.
I left.
Chased the dream.
Left her behind with nothing but a promise I never kept.
The first few times I reached out afterward, she didn’t answer.Calls, texts—nothing.
And yeah, it hurt like hell, but I was young and angry and stupid.
So I did what stupid, prideful boys do.
I pretended I didn’t care.
Turned it into a “fuck you, I can live without you” attitude.
Told myself it was puppy love.
