PEOPLE YOU USED TO KNOW

I blinked once. Twice. Three times. As if, by sheer force of will, the man in front of me could blur into a stranger, fade into the crowd, disappear back into the years where I'd last laid eyes on him. But no. Aaron Warner was there, standing, unyielding, like he had every right to be in my now. His jaw was chiseled, his black hair cut into a harsh something, his suit fitted to within an inch of its life. And on his feet—Balenciaga. Real ones. He used to always mock brands, call them superficial. Now he was wearing them like they'd been stitched into his flesh.

But the shoes didn't gut me. It was the look. The same gray eyes I used to memorize in the dark, the same ones that gentled for me six years ago, now slid over me like I was something vile on the bottom of those designer shoes.

Then he spoke, and his words destroyed whatever fragile hope had started to build in my chest.

"What the hell are you doing?" His voice snapped like a whip. Cold. Unrecognizable. "Walking around with a hot cup of coffee and taking corners without so much as an ounce of caution? Are you an idiot? Can't you understand the most basic facts of how not to behave in an office building?"

I halted, my mouth opening but nothing coming out. Imbecile. He'd called me an—

"Aaron—" My voice cracked, small. "What the hell?"

His eyebrows shifted, but there was no flicker of recognition. No softening. Nothing. He stared at the stain on his suit sleeve as if it had cost more than my entire apartment, which it likely had. "Don't you dare speak to me in such a manner within these walls." His voice dropped into venom. "Mr. Warner. That's what people use when they address me in this building.". But then again, people in this building don't spill their pathetic excuses of breakfast all over me, now do they?

"\

My chest heaved. "Why are you—why are you talking to me like this?

"Why are you here?" he snapped, eyes cutting into daggers. "What are you doing in this building? People in this building are people who have success in their bank accounts. People who walk through these doors don't have resumes soaked in failure. So why in the hell are you here, wasting my time?"

The words hit harder than I meant them to. For a second, I could not even breathe. My hand clenched into a fist around the empty cup, knuckles burning. My tongue stuttered before I could stammer, "I—I had a job interview here today."

A spark was in his eyes then, but it wasn't recognition. It was contempt. A sadistic amusement. "And I should care why?" His lips curled. "You think that because you spilled your coffee all over my suit, I'll suddenly become benevolent? You think I care that you're so needy you're willing to crawl into a firm like this with no experience at all? You want me to pat your head, say you've got potential?

I felt my face flush, my chest tighten, yet still I stayed. Still I waited for the moment when he'd ease off, when he'd smile as always and say he was just joking. But it never came.

"Get yourself up from the floor," he finished, voice cold as ice, "and use the door. You don't belong here.".

He did not even wait to hear my response. He tugged at his sleeve, muttered under his breath, and turned on his heel. His long step carried him back through the glass doors, the lobby swallowing him whole like it had been waiting for its king.

And I just stood there, immobile, my shoes glued to the marble floor. My heart beat so hard I feared it would echo off the walls of glass.

That was it? That was all? The last time I'd seen Aaron Warner, his lips had been on mine, his hand fisted in my hair, whispering words that felt like forever. And then he was gone. No calls. No texts. Every number disconnected. Connor didn't know where he'd disappeared to, my parents didn't know, and I couldn't ask too many questions without raising suspicion. I told myself not to crack, not to let the truth rise to the surface.

Because if Connor had even suspected the secret—that I'd been falling in love with his best friend, that his best friend had disappeared right after ripping my heart out—he would've hunted Aaron to the ends of the Earth.

So I concealed it. I laughed when Connor asked if I was okay. I threw myself into classes, into anything that would tire me out too much to remember. But I remembered. Every day. Every glance across the living room when Connor wasn't looking. Every brush of Aaron's hand against mine when no one was around. Every moment when I thought maybe, just maybe, the boy I loved loved me enough to stay.

And now? Now he was here, in the attire of a stranger, talking to me like I was scum.

I swallowed, my gaze locked on the door he'd come in. The world continued around me—people walking, talking, phones buzzing. But I was frozen. I couldn't even breathe.

Aaron Warner was back. And he wasn't mine.

Not anymore.