My brain stutters. “Do-over?”
He nods, watching me like he’s just waiting for my brain to finally catch up.
“Ben’s party. Six months ago.”
I blink. “Wait…what?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Should I?”
His mouth curves, half amused, half incredulous. “You were wearing a leather jacket and drinking negronis like they were water.”
Oh God. My stomach twists.
Was that the night I pre-gamed so hard I nearly fell asleep in the Uber? The night I passed out on a beanbag after giving mymum a drunken FaceTime lecture on emotional baggage and the virtues of dipping Doritos in melted Brie?
Okay, side note: I might have a cheese addiction.
I stare at him. “Are you sure that was me?”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “You told me my voice sounded like expensive candlelight… and then asked if I believed in reincarnation because you were convinced we’d met in a past life.”
Oh. Fuck. Yep. That sounds like me.
I cringe so hard my soul leaves my body, dragging a hand down my face. “That… does not sound like a woman making a lasting impression.”
He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t even blink.
“It was,” he says softly. “For me.”
My breath catches, disobedient, like the boat just rocked under me.
“Do you not remember?” he asks, quieter now. “At all?”
I shake my head. “I remember the hangover. And waking up with a goat cheese medallion in my bra. So… no.”
His mouth tips, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. I figured.”
I want to joke. To throw out something flippant about artisanal lingerie or cheese sponsorship deals.
But the look in his eyes stops me cold.
“I broke up with Helen after that night.” His voice is stripped back, like he’s laying down a card he’s been holding for months. “You made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time.” His eyes find mine, unflinching. “Happy.”
The word lands with such quiet force it almost knocks the air out of me.
“You made me smile,” he continues, a ghost of one touching his mouth now. “And I just… knew I needed to see you again.”
I’m silent. Not just speechless, rooted. Heart hammering like it’s trying to catch up.
He leans in just slightly, enough to feel like the rest of the world is eavesdropping on us.
“You weren’t just a stranger in the maze to me, Hayley.” His voice drops even lower. “I already knew you were someone I wanted to get lost with.”
My breath catches so completely I almost laugh, just to break the tension, but I don’t. Because I can’t. Because this is the moment the whole night, the wholeweekend, has been winding towards.
My heart stutters. This is so much worse than a rebound.
