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♫ Sweet you rockAnd sweet you rollLost for you I'm so lost for youYou come crash into me ♪(Dave Matthews Band—Crash into me)

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♫ Sweet you rock
And sweet you roll
Lost for you I'm so lost for you
You come crash into me ♪
(Dave Matthews Band—Crash into me)

Coralie wasn't sure how long she remained hypnotized by those emerald gems one would call eyes. In Chester's case, she believed they were crystal balls, or mirages meant to draw you in and devour your soul. Had hours passed? Days? Maybe minutes? Who knew?

"You okay, Cora?" His raspy voice detached her from her reverie and grounded her. "You look... lost."

Oh, she was lost, all right. Lost in confusion, in questions like why was he there? Why in that town, in that building? Why in front of her, handsome and mysterious as the last time she'd encountered his cheery disposition?

And why didn't he seem surprised to see her? His gaze glossed over her as if he'd hung out with her yesterday, at a bar where they'd taken a few shots and made out in the bathroom. As if they hadn't been estranged for years, too busy in their adult lives to reach out and check on one another.

"How... are you here?" She struggled to part her lips, to communicate with her brain and make her tongue work, because it was heavy, cotton-like, and drunk. "In... New York?"

"Oh, yeah." He laughed and tossed his hair back. "I've lived here for several years, actually." He was so casual, speaking with such nonchalance, that Coralie had no idea how to react. Had he expected her to know he was in the city? They weren't friends on social media, and didn't have each other's numbers anymore. How could she have found out?

"Several years?" She clapped her mouth shut upon realizing her jaw had been drooping.

"And I've seen you in the building a lot in the past few weeks, too. But you..." He tilted his head and fixed on her as if scanning through her skin for signs of her feelings. "You never saw me, apparently. Damn, good thing I wasn't paying attention today, huh? You would have walked by me like every other day, with no clue it was me. Good ol' Chester, your former bestie."

Me, he says. Bestie. As if nothing ever happened, as if our friendship was... intact.

Her fists clenched, but she stuffed them behind her back so he wouldn't notice. Did he have any inkling how angry she'd been with him? And how sad to lose him from her life? How she still held a grudge against him for disappearing? She'd spent no quality time with him since the night of her near-rape. The night they'd been partying together, and he'd ditched her to go enjoy a threesome with two intoxicated bombshells he'd met seconds before. Did he remember how all their common friends—minus Delilah—had accused him of abandoning her? Of leaving her with the dude who ended up dragging her to a hotel room to attempt to have his way with her? For so long, she'd presumed that was why they'd stopped talking; because Chester felt guilty and had no means to seek forgiveness. That, or he was embarrassed because all their party buddies had taken Coralie's side.

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