Sebastian woke to the faint scent of wildflowers in the blonde beside him. Her skin carried the warmth of vanilla, soft against the sheets. A pang of guilt twisted in his stomach.
Another girl who means nothing. Just a distraction to keep me from missing her.
The woman stirred, rolling onto her back, tangled in the blankets. Sebastian watched her for a moment, captivated by her beauty but unmoved inside. With a sigh, he slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom.
Steam soon filled the air as he stepped under the hot water, letting it run across his shoulders and down his chest. Even with the heat, the hollow ache in him remained.
A few minutes later, he emerged with a towel around his waist. He dressed with practiced ease: boxer briefs, grey joggers, a black Sleep Token shirt pulled from the hanger. Deodorant, cologne, and a quick rake of his fingers through his tousled hair. Not perfect, but good enough.
He grabbed his backpack, phone, wallet, and keys from the nightstand. Without a backward glance at the blonde still sleeping in his bed, he locked the apartment door behind him and headed out. His white Mustang GT rumbled to life, carrying him toward town.
At The Coffee Bean, Sebastian pushed open the door, already picturing his usual caramel macchiato with cold foam. He didn't even see the girl until she collided with him, nearly spilling her drink. His hand shot out, steadying her elbow.
"Sorry, miss," he said quickly. "Should've been paying more attention."
She looked up--and his chest tightened. Ocean-blue eyes, freckles dusting her nose, chestnut hair falling loose around her face.
"You're fine," she said with a quick smile. Her voice carried a soft southern lilt that froze him in place. Alice? Could it really be you?
Before he could speak, she was gone--slipping past him and out the door.
Sebastian stood there, heart hammering, until the barista called for the next customer. He forced himself to order his drink, tipped the cashier, and waited by the counter, mind racing. If that was Alice, why didn't she say anything? Does she not remember me? We spent nearly a decade together. How could she forget?
His name was called. He grabbed his coffee, walked back to his car, and sat behind the wheel. As the Mustang roared back to life, one thought burned in his chest.
If it was her, I'll make her remember. I have to.