Whose number was it?
After a hot shower, I plopped on my bed and laid down, staring at the number.
I opened the conversation.
Hi. This is Felix. Mayven gave me your number. I was wondering if we could meet up?
My heart skipped a beat. Felix? He wanted to meet ME.
I let out a quiet scoff and rolled onto my side, staring at the ceiling like it had answers. Of all the people from high school, of all the timing, of all the possible complications, I get a message from Felix Sinclair on the same night Mason Rockwell reappears on a motorcycle like some cinematic punchline.
I reread the message.
I was wondering if we could meet up?
No emojis. No awkward rambling. Straight to the point.That was very Felix.
Eight years, and he was still polite enough to ask instead of assume.
I typed a response.Deleted it.Typed again.Deleted that too.
Why was I nervous?
This wasn't a crush anymore. That was teenage nonsense. I was twenty-six, a business owner, a woman who negotiated contracts worth more than most people's annual salaries. I didn't get flustered over a shy guy from high school.
Except… my pulse said otherwise.
I sighed and finally typed:
Hey. Yeah, I'm back in town. We can meet. When were you thinking?
I hit send before I could overthink it.
The reply came almost instantly.
Tomorrow? If you're free. There's a café near the old library. I heard it's still there.
A small smile tugged at my lips despite myself.
Still there.Of course Felix would remember something like that.
Tomorrow works, I replied. Afternoon.
Perfect, he wrote. I'll see you then.
I locked my phone and set it down on my chest, staring up at the ceiling again.
So Felix was still single. Still thoughtful. Still… Felix.
And Mason?
I squeezed my eyes shut, the image of rain-soaked heterochromia eyes flashing uninvited into my mind. I still hated him. The hate was still there.
I probably still liked Felix, and I definitely still hated Mason/
The next afternoon, I stood outside the café, hands tucked into the pockets of my jacket. The place looked exactly the same: brick walls, large windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside, the faint smell of coffee drifting through the air.
I hesitated before pushing the door open.
Get it together, Roxanne.
The bell above the door chimed softly.
I spotted him immediately.
Felix sat at a small corner table, a book open in front of him, fingers wrapped around a mug. He looked up the moment the bell rang, eyes scanning the room, until they landed on me.
And froze.
He stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor.
"Roxanne," he said, like he was testing the name out loud.
"Hey, Felix."
God.
He looked… different.
Taller—definitely taller. Broader shoulders, a little less softness to his frame, but still there in his eyes. His hair was a bit darker now than I remembered, still messy but intentional, like he no longer cared if it fell perfectly into place. And his eyes...
Still chocolate brown. Still warm. Still the kind you could get lost in if you weren't careful.
"You look…" He stopped himself, clearing his throat. "You look good."
"So do you," I said honestly.
A faint flush crept up his neck. Some things really never changed.
We sat down, a comfortable awkwardness settling between us. The kind that wasn't unpleasant—just unfamiliar.
"How's New York?" he asked.
"Busy," I replied. "Loud. Fast. Nothing like this place."
"I figured," he smiled.
I tilted my head. "And you?"
"I stayed," he admitted. "College nearby. Job in Seattle."
That stung a little, though I wasn't sure why.
Conversation flowed easier after that. We talked about work, about Mayven and Luke, about the reunion coming up. Felix laughed more than I remembered. Quiet, genuine laughs that made something warm settle in my chest.
Then he hesitated, fingers tracing the rim of his mug.
"There's something I should probably tell you," he said.
My stomach tightened.
"Okay."
He met my eyes, nervous but determined. "I liked you. Back then. More than I ever let on."
I held my breath.
He liked me. I blinked at him.
A small smile crossed his face. "I didn't think I stood a chance."
"With me?" I asked.
He nodded. "You were… intimidating."
I laughed. "Of course I was." I winked.
"No," he said quickly. "I mean it in a good way."
There was a pause. Not awkward this time. Charged.
"And now?" I asked, before I could stop myself.
Felix didn't look away.
"Now I think," he said slowly, "that maybe we never got the timing right."
The words settled between us, heavier than I expected.
I leaned back slightly in my chair, studying him. The way his fingers tightened around his mug, the way his shoulders stayed squared even though his eyes betrayed uncertainty. Felix had always been like this, quiet courage wrapped in gentleness.
"I left," I said. "I was already halfway out the door back then."
"I know," he replied. "That's why I never said anything."
Something in my chest ached.
"You could've," I murmured. "I wasn't as unapproachable as everyone thought."
He smiled faintly. "You were to me."
That made me laugh, soft and surprised. "Wow. I really did a number on people, didn't I?"
"No," he said immediately. "You just knew who you were. That scared people. It scared me."
I stared down at the table, tracing a small scratch in the wood with my finger. "You weren't invisible, you know."
His brows knit together. "I wasn't?"
"No," I said. "I noticed you. All the time."
His eyes snapped back to mine.
"You did?"
I nodded. "You always sat near the window. You doodled in the margins of your notebooks. You pretended you weren't listening, but you always were."
His lips parted slightly. "I thought you barely knew I existed."
"I was just bad at saying things," I admitted. "Still am."
Silence followed, but it wasn't heavy. It was thoughtful.
Felix leaned back, exhaling slowly. "I'm glad you came."
"So am I," I said, surprising myself with how easily the words came.
We ordered refills. Time passed without either of us noticing. The café filled and emptied around us, conversations blending into background noise. It felt like we'd slipped into our own pocket of time, untouched by the years between us.
"I heard about your company," Felix said. "You always wanted to build something."
I shrugged. "It kind of happened by accident."
He smiled. "The best things usually do."
I watched him for a moment. There was something steady about him now. Grounded. He hadn't chased the world, but he hadn't stayed the same either.
"And you?" I asked. "Are you happy?"
He paused, considering the question carefully. "I think I am. I have a life I like. A job that doesn't drain me. Friends. Routine." Then he looked at me. "But I've always wondered what would've happened if I'd been braver."
The honesty in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
"What about now?" I asked quietly. "Are you still wondering?"
He held my gaze. "I wouldn't have asked to meet if I wasn't."
My heart beat faster.
"I'm not the same person I was back then," I said. "I don't stay in one place. I don't promise things easily."
"I'm not asking for promises," Felix replied. "Just honesty."
I nodded slowly. "Okay."
We stood up together, the moment stretching just a second longer than necessary.
Outside, the air was cooler. Fresher. The clouds were clearing, sunlight breaking through in thin streaks.
"Can I walk you?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said. "I'd like that."
We walked side by side, not touching, but close enough that I was aware of him with every step.
At the corner, he stopped. "I'll see you at the reunion?"
"Yeah," I said. "You will."
He hesitated, then smiled. "I'm glad it's you I ran into first."
So was I.
As I walked away, I realized something unsettling and comforting all at once.
Felix wasn't a memory anymore.
He was a possibility.