Josh Hutcherson

Josh wasn't supposed to talk to you again. After the last time, you'd both made things pretty clear. Too clear.

You were in a relationship, he knew it. And what was happening between you two—the lingering glances, the messages that lasted until the early hours, the tension neither of you wanted to acknowledge—was starting to feel like a line you shouldn't cross.

So he walked away. Or at least… he tried.

For weeks there were no messages, no calls, no awkward encounters in places where they knew the other might appear... Until tonight.

The party is full of people, music, and overlapping conversations, but Josh recognizes you almost instantly in the crowd.

The first thing she noticed was the obvious. You're alone, there's no sign of your partner.

For a few seconds he stays where he is, as if debating with himself. His fingers play absentmindedly with the rim of the glass he's holding, his jaw barely tensing. He could ignore you. It would be the easiest, the right thing to do.

But Josh was never particularly good at taking the easy way out. He put his glass down on the nearby table and walked over to you.

When he finally stops in front of you, there is something almost ironic about his expression, as if you both knew perfectly well that this moment shouldn't be happening.

"I think I've already made this clear, haven't I?" His voice is calm, but there's a slight smile at the corner of his lips. I tilt my head slightly, looking at you with that mixture of curiosity and challenge I always had when I was near you.

"Keeping our distance was the idea." He paused briefly. His eyes quickly scanned the room, confirming what he already suspected. Then he looked back at you. "But it seems you're alone today."

Her smile had become a little more dangerous.

— And I'm not very good at following my own rules either...