And for the first time in a long while, I wonder what it would feel like to have that again. To be someone’s first thought, their everything.
But as Lilah catches my gaze, a knowing glint in her eyes, I force a smile and turn back to the conversation. Wanting something doesn’t make it possible—especially not with the four people my thoughts refuse to stop circling around.
The conversation eventually shifts back to the band and the show, and I can feel the heat creeping up my neck as Lilah smirks over her glass of wine.
“You know,” she says, leaning forward, her tone casual but her eyes wicked, “you don’t have to get back together with them. There’s always the option of a revenge hookup.”
My mouth falls open, and I nearly choke on my water. “Lilah!”
“What?” she asks, feigning innocence as she pops a piece of bread into her mouth. “I’m just saying, if they hurt you before, maybe it’s time to flip the script.”
Rafe laughs, the sound loud and unapologetic. “Nowthatis an idea I can get behind,” he says, nudging her shoulder. “Mess with their heads a little. Make them sweat.”
Miles grins, pointing his fork at me. “Oh, I like this. Do it, Ash. Teach them a lesson. You know they’d deserve it.”
I bury my face in my hands. “You guys are the worst,” I groan, though I can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes me.
Elliott leans back in his chair with a slight frown. “I don’t know,” he says carefully. “That’s a slippery slope. If there’s still something there, it could get messy fast.”
Lilah waves him off. “Life’s already messy, Elliott. Might as well have some fun while she’s at it.”
“You’re all insane,” I mutter, shaking my head.
Lilah shrugs, her grin wide and unrepentant. “Maybe. But we’re not wrong. You’ve got the power now, Ash. Use it.”
Rafe and Miles both nod in agreement, their expressions far too amused for my liking, while Elliott sighs, clearly resigned to being outnumbered.
I shake my head, but the laughter bubbling around the table is contagious, and for the first time in what feels like ages, I let myself relax into the moment. Even if Lilah’s suggestion is absurd, the reminder that I still have a sliver of control over this mess gives me just a tiny bit of comfort.
Todd suggestedone of my favorite diners for our lunch—not that he’d know that.
I show up twenty minutes early and slide into a booth in the far back corner. It’s one of the reasons I like this place. It’s tucked away, a quick walk from my building, and the paparazzi usually have better places to stalk in the city.
What I didn’t account for was the fact that the band carries their own gravitational pull—paparazzi included.
The moment their sleek black SUV pulls up out front, the doors barely open before photographers seem to materialize outof thin air. Cameras flash, voices rise, and questions are hurled at them like grenades.
Through the glass, I watch the chaos unfold. The guys step out one by one, handling the swarm with practiced ease. West keeps his head down, his shoulders tense but unbothered. Todd offers a polite but firm wave, his calm presence barely ruffled. Jake smiles wryly, like the whole scene is nothing more than an inconvenience.
And then there’s Xayden, casually flipping the cameras off with both hands as he strides to the door, ensuring every shot they get of him is completely unusable.
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, soft and low, as I shake my head.
The bell above the door jingles as they enter, and immediately, the diner feels smaller. Their presence fills the space, and their energy seeps into the air, undeniable and magnetic.
Their scents hit me first, a rush of memories and emotions flooding my senses before their eyes even land on me.
Todd’s musk arrives first—a warm amber and sandalwood, woven with the golden sweetness of honey. It surrounds me like sunlight peeking through a crack in a window—steady, familiar, and comforting.
Next, Jake’s scent presses in, although more subtle, it’s bright and clean, a mixture of fresh sage and green tea tempered by the deep, grounding pull of vetiver that sometimes threads through. It’s like a breath of fresh air.
Then West—his scent is smoky whiskey, almond, and vanilla, cutting through the air, quiet yet commanding, like an unspoken promise of intensity that I can’t quite shake.
And Xayden—his scent flares last, bold and daring, leather mingling with the tang of citrus and the heat of black pepper. It’s electric, like the jolt of a live wire, impossible to ignore.
Together, their musks create an overwhelming storm. The sweetness of honey collides with the brightness of citrus and sage, while the earthiness of sandalwood and vetiver anchors the smoky warmth of whiskey and the sharpness of pepper. It’s intoxicating, like a melody I can’t help but get lost in.
They’re excited to be here; I can feel it in the way their scents sharpen and grow bolder, filling the space around me like a living thing. It’s familiar and disorienting all at once, a tangled knot of emotions that I’m trying desperately not to get tangled in myself.
