2. Breathless

I set dinner on the table, my mind elsewhere as I pick at my food. Wes talks about work—another long-winded story about a difficult patient or a surgery gone wrong. I used to hang onto every word, fascinated by his stories. But when it's all he ever talks about, the excitement fades.

The moment he pauses, I seize the chance. "Are you on call tonight?"

He shakes his head. "No, but I am in the morning."

"I was thinking about going to the club. Want to come?"

He barely hesitates. "I should probably get some sleep before my shift."

I nod, forcing a small smile. "Mind if I go?"

"Of course not," he says, returning my smile. "Enjoy yourself."

We finish eating in comfortable silence—at least he stopped talking for a few minutes.
As I clear the plates and start tidying the kitchen, I steal a glance at Wes. He’s scrolling through his phone, completely at ease, unaware of the quiet ache settling in my chest.

Once, he used to watch me as I moved around the kitchen. Once, he used to pull me onto his lap just because he wanted me close.

Now, I could leave the room, and I doubt he’d even notice.

As I wipe down the counter, Wes stays seated at the table, his eyes fixed on his phone, scrolling through emails or medical journals or whatever has his attention tonight.

I wait for him to look up, to say something—anything.

"I won’t be out too late," I say, more for myself than him.

"Okay," he replies absently, still not looking up.

I swallow down the frustration bubbling in my chest and turn away, drying my hands on a dish towel before heading upstairs.

In my closet, I look through my clothes, fingers trailing over soft fabrics. It’s been ages since I dressed up. We barely go out, we never go on dates.

I finally settle on a black dress—simple but flattering. As I slip it on, I glance at my reflection.

I look… different. Maybe it’s the lighting, or the way my hair falls over my shoulders, but for the first time in a long time, I feel like I recognize the girl staring back at me.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Brenda:Almost ready?

Evi: Almost. Be there soon.

I run downstairs. Wes is still at the table, phone in hand. He doesn’t even glance up when I grab my purse.

"I’m heading out," I say, pausing in the doorway.

"Okay," he murmurs.

That’s it. No 'You look nice' or 'Be safe'. Just 'Okay'.

I hesitate, waiting, but he never looks up.

With a quiet sigh, I step outside, the cool evening air washing over me. Brenda’s car is already idling in the driveway, music thumping softly from inside.

As I slide into the passenger seat, she grins. "Damn, girl. You look sexy!"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Thanks."

"You ready for a night of bad decisions?" she teases.

I exhale, letting the tension of the evening slip away.
She has no idea they will be there tonight, no idea they are back.

"Yeah," I say, forcing a smile. "I think I am."

And with that, we drive away.

I didn’t tell them I was going to the club, but I know I’ll find them there anyway.

It’s been a long time since I last saw Georg and Gustav. When Bill and Tom left, we all tried to stay in touch at first, but life got in the way. Messages became less frequent, calls went unanswered, and eventually, the silence settled in.

Gustav got married. Georg found a girlfriend. I started university. Time didn’t stop for any of us—we just got caught up in our own worlds.

By the time we arrive at the club, nerves claw at my stomach. My steps feel heavier with every inch we move toward the entrance.

“You okay?” Brenda asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

I force a small nod. “Hm, hm.”

The moment we step inside the club, the music wraps around me—thick, pulsing, alive.

We grab drinks, pushing our way onto the dance floor. I try to let the energy pull me in, try to lose myself in the bass vibrating through my skin.

And then, I see him—Bill.

It’s like time slows. Like the world tilts for just a second.

There’s something about him. Something I can’t put into words.

I catch myself staring—too long. Brenda notices.

“Oh my God. Is that… Bill? Are they back?”

I don’t answer immediately, my eyes flicking between her and Bill.

“I guess,” I murmur.

Her gaze darts around. “Tom’s here too!”

I follow her line of sight and see Tom standing right next to Bill.

Bill turns his head slightly—and our eyes meet.

A sharp jolt shoots through me, heat rising to my cheeks. I look away—too quickly, too obvious.

“I need something stronger,” I mumble, heading toward the bar.

The first drink disappears in seconds. I set the empty glass down, my fingers tapping against the counter.

“Martini Fiero, please.”

I glance at Brenda. “You want one too?”

She shrugs. “Sure, why not.”

“Make it two,” I tell the bartender.

We return to the dance floor, but I can’t focus. My body moves to the music, but my mind is somewhere else.

And then, they start walking toward us, all four of them—Oh God.

“They’re coming,” I whisper to Brenda.

She rolls her eyes, but before I can brace myself, they’re already standing next to us.

“Hi,” I say, keeping my voice casual, steady, like my heart isn’t threatening to claw its way out of my chest.

I turn to Georg and Gustav—it’s easier. “How are you guys? It’s been so long.”

I glance at Gustav. “How’s your wife? Why didn’t she come?”

We talk, but the music swallows most of the words.

I drift toward a high table, resting my elbows on the cool surface, watching them dance. Even Brenda is letting go, losing herself in the moment.

Then, I can feel him, before I see him.

Bill.

My pulse jumps, and I drop my gaze, pretending to focus on my glass.

“Hi.” His voice is soft. I look up. He leans against the table, mirroring my posture.

“Hi,” I reply.

I need to say something—anything—to fill the silence. “How’s life in LA?”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Sunny.”

I can’t help but smile back. “I can see that.” I gesture subtly to his sun-kissed skin.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. We just stare in front of us.

Then, his arm brushes against mine.

A sharp inhale catches in my throat. The warmth of his skin spreads through me, setting every nerve on edge.

My gaze drops to where we touch, and when I look back up, his eyes are already on me.

I shift my arm slightly—enough to break the contact without making it obvious.

“It’s good to see you again.” His voice is soft, careful.

I nod, a small smile playing on my lips. “It is.”

He hesitates. Then, quieter: “I missed you.”

My breath stutters as he places his hand over mine. His touch is familiar, electric. My eyes flicker between our hands before meeting his eyes again.

“I missed you too,” I admit.

His fingers squeeze mine gently, pulling me back into something I thought I had buried.

I pull away first, wrapping both hands around my glass. The intensity is too much.

Brenda appears, throwing Bill a sharp look before turning to me. “Time to dance.”

I nod, grateful for the escape. With one last glance at Bill, I follow her onto the dancefloor.

The music swallows me whole, bass pounding through my veins as I let Brenda pull me onto the dance floor.

I should be able to lose myself in this. The alcohol is warm in my bloodstream, my dress clings to my body, and hands brush against me as people move in the crowd.

But all I feel is him.

I know Bill is still watching. I can feel it.

I look over my shoulder—and there he is, standing near the bar, drink in hand, his eyes locked onto me.

Something flickers in his gaze. Something I remember too well.

I swallow hard and turn back to Brenda, forcing a laugh as she twirls me around.

I can’t do this.

—

I stumbled through my front door, my body buzzing from alcohol, from the night, from something deeper I didn’t want to admit. My skin felt too hot, my breath too shallow. I needed relief—something, anything—to chase away this restless ache coiling deep inside me.

Arousal isn’t the right word. It’s need.

I make my way to the bathroom, my fingers trembling slightly as I undress. My clothes hit the floor in a careless heap, but I barely notice. All I can feel is the ache beneath my skin, the restless energy humming through me.

The mirror catches my reflection. My lips are slightly parted, my skin flushed, my pupils blown wide. I look like someone who just had the best sex of her life.

But I didn’t.

I just saw Bill.

I step into the shower, the shock of cold water stealing my breath. A shiver runs down my spine, my nipples hardening from the sudden chill. I press my hands against the tile wall, head falling forward as I wait for the warmth to come.

I close my eyes, exhaling shakily as my fingers drift lower, parting my thighs.

The first touch sends a sharp jolt through me, my hips rocking forward instinctively. A quiet moan escapes my lips, swallowed by the sound of rushing water.

And the moment I let my mind slip, he’s there—Bill.

His hands. His mouth. His voice, rough and low as he whispers my name.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I can almost see him—his dark eyes locked on mine, the way he used to look at me like I was something he wanted to devour.

I can feel his hands on my skin, the rough drag of his fingertips, the heat of his mouth tracing over my neck, down my chest, lower—

I can hear his breath, the way it used to hitch when I gasped his name.

My body tightens, the coil in my stomach winding too tight, too fast—

My fingers moved faster, my knees weakened, my back pressing against the cold tiles as I slid down.

Pleasure crashes over me like a tidal wave, sharp and breathless.
My mouth falls open, a strangled sound escaping as I shatter around the ghost of him.

For the first time in months, my release wasn’t empty. It wasn’t just an escape—It was real.