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Koh

“Sorry, I’m late.” I kiss Nahla on the cheek and drop into the chair across from her. She managed to snag a table by the window with a view of the street.

Nahla laughs and flips her phone screen down on the table. “You sound as stressed as a lawyer. I thought you were a dog walker.”

“It’s not any less stressful,” I defend myself. “I officially adopted Pixie. Luckily, I have a great relationship with the neighbor—she’s almost always free to watch her. I can’t exactly bring a dog here.”

I gesture around the busy bar. Almost every table is full, and only a few stools remain open at the counter. Music blasts from the speakers, mixing with loud conversations to create a painfully high noise level. But it’s Friday, and people are celebrating the upcoming weekend.

“You asked the neighbor? What about your roommate?”

I don’t miss the tone in Nahla’s voice. She’s clearly been waiting for the right moment to bring up Aran. Might as well get it over with.

“Looks like he hates dogs.”

“I can’t picture that at all.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“Hot guys don’t hate dogs. It’s a rule.”

As convincing as she sounds—and as gracefully as she sits there batting her gold-lined lashes—I’m not changing my mind anytime soon.

When the waiter appears, I’m caught off guard. Nahla already has a beer, but I order a glass of white wine.

She watches me with slightly narrowed eyes.

“What?” I ask, raising my brows.

“You can deny it, but I see it. You’re different.”

I dismiss her with a scoff. “What do you see?”

“You’re dressed like you’re going on a date. Freshly shaved and… is that gel, Koh? What happened?”

Before I can answer, Nahla rolls her eyes. “Oh no. Don’t tell me you ran into Luke.”

Just hearing his name sends an ice-cold shiver down my spine. I stiffen in my chair.

“I’m allowed to get dressed up,” I say defensively. “You always look flawless when we meet.”

“That’s not it. A year ago, you showed the same compulsive tendencies. You do this when you feel like you’re losing control. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“That’s nonsense.”

“Nope. You know it isn’t.”

I stay silent. My hand drifts to my upper arm, where a dull ache has settled—as if someone punched me. Ever since that kiss last Sunday, something has been buzzing under my skin that I can’t shake.

It’s not just the desire Aran woke in me. It’s that old, familiar fear that everything might slip away again.

The kiss was so intense I can still feel his lips, the heat of his skin, and smell that earthy scent.

But every time I think about it, a cold tremor follows—sharp, like a thousand tiny cracks under my skin.

I know this tension inside me all too well. It’s an old friend I’m starting to realize is my worst enemy.