I watch Andrew sing an old punk rock song as it blasts through his car radio while he drives us to his friends’ party, a little surprised to learn he still likes the band, considering it was his favorite back in high school.

I can’t help but smile at his face—his eyes catching the moonlight, his lips curving as he occasionally murmurs my name, and his messy hair that reminds me of the boyish Andrew I met years ago.

“What?” the handsome man asks, casting me a sideways glance when he catches me staring.

“What?” I frown, my cheeks blushing as I turn to the window, trying to stop myself from swooning over him.

“Why were you staring at me?” he insists, a hint of mischief in his voice.

“I wasn’t staring,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

He chuckles. “You are stubborn as hell, aren’t you?”

“And you’re annoying as hell.” I roll my eyes again.

“I think your father is starting to warm up to me,” he says, suddenly changing the subject. 

“What makes you think that?”

“During dinner, he grilled me with questions about my work, family, and plans for the future,” he replies, smiling smugly.

I snort. “I don't think that means he’s starting to like you, Andrew.” 

“Why not? At least he’s interested in getting to know me better, unlike his daughter,” he accuses, narrowing his eyes as he glances at me for a split second.

I shrug, laughing. “He’s probably just wondering why we’re hanging out again, considering our past.”

“Our past? What are you talking about?” He frowns, puzzled.

“Dad knows I liked you back in high school and that you were Charlotte’s boyfriend.”

“That still doesn’t explain why he hates me.”

How can he be so oblivious to the pain he caused me all those years? Is he really that clueless, or is he pretending not to remember what happened?

Andrew stops the car at a red light and turns to face me, his intense gaze making me slightly uncomfortable as he presses, “Why does your father hate me, Emily?” 

I turn to the window, choosing to stay silent, as there is no way he doesn’t know what he did to me back then.

“Emily,” he calls, placing a hand on my knee, his grip gentle.

Oh, gosh, Andrew. Please don’t touch me like that. I haven’t been with anyone in years, and you’re hard to resist.

“I’m not dropping this until you tell me the truth,” he smirks, starting to drive again without moving his hand from my knee.

I hate it when someone pushes me to talk about something I don’t want to discuss. Irritated, I snap, “My dad hates you because he is the one who spent night after night awake, listening to me cry my heart out while you were shoving your tongue down Charlotte’s throat, even though you both knew I had feelings for you.” And there it is, the naked, cold truth.

Needless to say, Andrew’s eyes widen as he glances at me, his mouth slightly open.

“Don’t give me that look, Andrew. You had that coming.”

The rest of the drive is silent, though my mind is anything but. The fact that I’m sitting in Andrew Keegan’s car feels surreal, like something sixteen-year-old me would have panicked over—not that twenty-three-year-old me is handling it much better.

Hell, his familiar scent is everywhere; the old punk rock playing low in the background; the way he is dressed in casual jeans, a red hoodie, and a black denim jacket. He has grown into one of the most handsome and charming men I have ever known—aside from Lucas, of course.

“We’re here,” Andrew announces, gesturing toward a modern mansion ahead.

“Why do I feel like I’ve been here before?” I frown, looking at the expensive cars parked outside and the groups of people milling around with drinks in hand.

“Because you have been here before,” Andrew replies with a small chuckle. “You really don’t remember Jess and Pedro, do you?” He tilts his head slightly.

“Nope.” I shrug, stepping out of the car. 

Andrew follows and is beside me in seconds. “Let’s have some fun, Emi.” He offers me his hand, but I pretend not to see it, because I don’t know what he’s planning, and I don’t understand why he wants me walking into a place like this with him, among his popular friends.

It’s not like I’m pretty or charismatic like Charlotte anyway, and without a doubt, he wouldn’t be proud to be seen with me.

“Let’s have some fun,” I repeat quietly, more to myself than to him, before heading toward the front door without waiting for him.

“Our friends are in the backyard,” Andrew informs me before taking my right hand and leading me toward the back of the mansion, where most of the guests are dancing near the DJ booth and gathering around a fire pit.

“Andy, Mily,” someone calls from a distance.

“Pedro,” Andrew replies, steering me toward a group roasting marshmallows over the fire.

“I’m glad you guys made it,” a charming man with hazel eyes exclaims, grinning at us.

“Andy,” a stunning woman squeals before throwing her arms around Andrew’s neck and kissing his cheek several times.

“Hi, Jess.” He smiles warmly in response.

“Oh my goodness. Mily,” the stunning woman continues, her green eyes landing on me. “I haven’t seen you since the graduation party.” She pulls me into a tight hug.

Who the hell are these people?

“Andy told us you were coming with him, but we didn’t believe him since we haven’t heard from you in ages,” Pedro comments, sounding oddly pleased to see me.

“You’re so beautiful, girl.” Jess pulls back, her compliment surprising me and making me blush.

“Hey, Andy. Hey, Mily,” the rest of the group greets us. 

To my surprise, I recognize them as the popular kids from high school—the ones Andrew and Charlotte used to always hang out with. They’re older now, well, sort of, but still unmistakably the same.

“It’s so good to see you two together,” a girl remarks, giving Andrew and me a playful wink.

“I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner,” another handsome boy notes, shooting Andrew a knowing smile.

“Okay… I am so confused right now,” I mumble, my brain struggling to process everything.

I glance around the place where dozens of people are dancing, and the realization hits me hard—this is where I met Dylan Fuller for the first time when I was sixteen. Jess was the birthday girl, and Pedro, her older brother, was the guy Faith hooked up with that night.

I blink a couple of times, my lips curving into a small smile. “Oh yeah, I do know you guys.” 

“Do you finally remember them?” Andrew laughs.

“Yes, I do. However, I maintain I was never part of your group,” I insist, gesturing vaguely at the beautiful faces around us, all laughing, eating roasted marshmallows, and holding drinks.

“What are you talking about?” Pedro asks, casually wrapping an arm around my waist.

“Emily insists she wasn’t our friend back in high school,” Andrew clarifies, still holding my hand as he narrows his eyes at Pedro, who doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“Why do you think you weren’t one of us, Mily?” Jess frowns, looking genuinely confused.

“Well, I-I-I—” I stammer, unable to find the words.

“Is it because Andrew used to date Charlie, and you felt like you were just tagging along because she was your friend?” Pedro guesses easily.

“Yes,” I admit with a small shrug.

“That’s nonsense,” Jess scoffs, gently pulling me away from her brother’s arm. “You were always one of us, Mily. Andrew’s relationship with Charlie had nothing to do with our friendship,” she reassures me.

I’m stunned by how warmly they treat me, so much so that I start to wonder if I was ever as invisible to them as I thought.

“What would you like to do now?” Andrew asks me, resting a hand on my back, his question carrying something unspoken I don’t dare to dwell on.

Averting my eyes, I mumble, “I think I need to use the bathroom.”

He frowns and steps in front of me, gently holding my face so I have no choice but to look at him. “What are you afraid of, Emi?” 

I swallow hard before answering, “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Does it have something to do with the relationship I had with Charlotte?” he insists.

Bullseye, mister.

“What if it does?” I arch an eyebrow defiantly.

“Are you afraid I still have feelings for her?” He flinches.

“Yes.” I pause, unable to look away. “And you broke my heart, Andrew.”

“What do you want me to do, Emily?” He leans in slightly. “I won’t say I regret dating Charlotte, because I don’t. I really liked her, and what I had with her was real.”

Ouch. Those words sting.

I flinch and try to put some space between us, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he continues, “But things change. People change. I’m not that teenager from almost ten years ago, and my feelings aren’t the same. I’m in a different place now.”

“You broke up with Charlotte because she cheated on you. Otherwise, you would still be with her,” I retort bitterly, my chest tight as the past crashes into me.

“That’s not true,” he mutters, visibly irritated. “Things weren’t good between Charlotte and me by the time we graduated because we both knew our university choices would pull us apart. She chose to go to New York with you, Hansel, and Faith, and I chose a different path, which means that we would have broken up eventually, even if she hadn’t cheated.”

“But still—”

“There is no ‘but still,’” he interrupts, his tone softening. “I’ve always liked you. That’s why I kissed you when we were fifteen, and it’s also why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

Honestly? I’m surprised he even remembers that night, even if I doubt he knows he was my first kiss. Still, I lose it the second his “confession” sinks in, my insecurities and low self-esteem getting the best of me.

“Bullshit.” I shove him and turn on my heel, ready to leave.

“Goddammit, Emily,” he grumbles, exasperated. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“Why?” I spin back to face him, my voice tight in my throat. “You started dating Charlotte a couple of weeks after you kissed me. Why did you choose her over me? I get that she’s gorgeous and I’m not, but you spent years all over her right in front of me.” I point at myself. “Even though you knew I liked you,” I snap, my eyes burning with unshed tears.

“Emi, please,” he pleads.

“What do you want from me now, Andrew? Did you make some kind of bet with your friends? That you could get me into your bed? That you could make me fall for you again? Or are you just trying to make Charlotte jealous?” The accusations spill out, my voice turning colder with every word.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he shoots back, anger flashing across his face.

“Forget it. I’m out of here.”

“Emily!” Andrew reaches for me, but I’m already moving away before he can touch me.

“What was I thinking? Coming here was a huge mistake,” I mutter as I rush inside the mansion and lock myself in one of the bathrooms; only then do I let the tears fall freely, away from everyone and away from Andrew Keegan.

* * *