Five
FIVE
SOPHIE
PRESENT
I ’ve never bolted out of a hotel before, but after my meeting with Liam, I suddenly morphed into an Olympic track runner. The adrenaline was pumping, and I was practically dripping with sweat by the time I hopped into the taxi. The driver shot me a look that said “What in the world were you up to?”
Trust me, I was asking myself the same question.
How is this my life?
Before Leora and Lucas’ wedding two years ago, I hadn't seen him in eight years. But truth be told, ever since I left Barcelona, he’s been the unwelcome star of my mental highlight reel. Reaching out to him crossed my mind more than once, but something always held me back. My intuition, I guess. Or fear.
We were young and reckless back then, with bright futures ahead. And yet here we are, our paths colliding for a third time. Only this time, Liam is my boss.
“I can’t believe he’s here. He didn't even text me!” Adeline says, her voice soft and a bit disappointed as she stirs the bolognese, its aroma growing more divine with each passing moment. It’s no surprise she’s bothered—Adeline and Liam hit it off immediately, their bond forming effortlessly like they’d known each other for years. Kind of funny, really, since I’m the one who truly knew him. Yet, I did everything I could to push him away the few times we had to be in the same room while visiting Lucas and Leora. And I still do.
“We should invite him over for dinner,” she suggests, and my heart stops for a millisecond.
“No!” The word escapes me faster than the snap of a finger, and Adeline’s eyes widen in surprise.
“I mean… He probably has lots to do right now. We shouldn’t bother him, maybe in a few weeks or something…” My words trail off, and my attempt to cover my initial reaction is feeble at best.
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting weird?” Adeline looks at me quizzically as I scramble for an excuse. I do feel guilty for not telling her. She’s my best friend, but what can I say? By the way, I’m sorry I’ve kept a secret for ten years. Do you remember when I studied in Spain and came back heartbroken? Well, you were right. A boy was the reason for it. Surprise , that boy was Liam.
She’d kill me, probably with the wooden spoon in her hand, and then move on to kill Liam.
“No, nothing is wrong,” I finally manage to get out. “I’m just saying he’s probably busy.”
Adeline sets down the spoon and fixes me with a penetrating look. “We won’t know that if we don’t ask. It would be rude if we didn’t.”
She’s right, of course. Adeline has always had a knack for cutting through my excuses, slicing right to the heart of things. It’s one of the things I love about her—except when it’s wildly inconvenient. Like now.
Right now, I hate that she’s forcing me to confront him, even though she doesn’t know it.
I bite my bottom lip, my mind racing with a dozen scenarios, each worse than the last. The idea of sitting across from him, his presence filling the room like it always does, makes my chest tighten. It’s a suffocating mix of anticipation and dread like the air is too thick to breathe.
What if I say something stupid? What if I can’t stop staring? What if he sees through me—sees the girl who never forgot the boy who shattered her heart all those years ago?
But there’s no way out. Adeline is already looking at me expectantly, her hands on her hips like she’s daring me to argue.
I sigh, defeated. ”You’re right. Let’s invite him over for dinner,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
As the words leave my mouth, a knot tightens in my stomach, heavier than before. I wonder if I’ve just opened a door I’m not ready to walk through. And yet, a part of me—the part I wish I could ignore—can’t help but hope.
I mindlessly flip through the channels, trying to find something interesting to watch. Something to get my mind off the day. Off Liam. Of how this will work out. Well, mostly how I’ll handle it because he didn’t seem bothered at all. He was as cool as a cucumber while I was sweating like an overripe tomato. That’s just him, though—always unreadable, always composed. He has this habit of brushing his thumb against his jawline when something gets under his skin, but even that was missing.
It’s going to be fine. It was probably just the initial shock of seeing him standing behind that desk. All tall and as handsome as ever, just reeking of charm and that special confidence. Why wouldn’t he be confident? He’s probably used to this kind of thing–running into old girlfriends and acting like it’s no big deal. He probably has a girlfriend in every country they have a hotel.
Not that I’m a girlfriend. Or even want to be. I mean, am I still attracted to him? Yes, anyone with eyes would be, but… But nothing. I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling sharply as if the action alone can clear the ridiculous thoughts swirling in my head, but it doesn't work. We’re nothing and we won’t be either.
Ugh. I shake my head. This is what I was afraid of—these thoughts, these what-ifs. It's like my brain is a broken record, replaying all the old memories and feelings I thought I had buried a long time ago. But it's fine. I can handle this. It's just another bump in the road, right?
My fingers tap the remote impatiently as I scroll past news segments, cooking shows, and sitcoms. But nothing seems to hold my attention for more than a few seconds. A reality show catches my eye just as I’m about to give up. Contestants are arguing about who to vote for the next challenge on the show, and it’s getting heated. So, I watch. I watch as they vote on the cute couple. I watch how they strategize and form alliances, completely engrossed in the drama unfolding on the screen. Anything to distract me from my own tangled thoughts.
Just as I’m about to fall asleep, a loud clapping sound startles me. “Hey, sleepyhead, we’re going out. Go get ready,” Adeline says with some kind of energy I don’t have, while she blocks the TV screen.
She’s wearing a tight skirt, hugging her down to below her knees, while the top is short enough to show off her midriff. Her long black hair is pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail cascading down her back. A very hot look, suiting her perfectly.
“Nooo, I want to stay in,” I groan.
She rolls her big brown eyes dramatically, planting her hands on her hips. “It’s Friday. You’re hot. I’m hot. We’re going out,” she declares, grabbing my arms and pulling me up with far more strength than her petite frame suggests. “Now go make that hot ass even hotter. It’s about seven p.m.—we’ll leave for dinner and drinks in thirty.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Adeline narrows her eyes like she’s daring me to argue further. The thought of a night out doesn’t sound dreadful. Sure, I’m tired, but maybe this is exactly what I need—a break, a chance to shake off the weight of the day and just have some fun. Adeline’s enthusiasm is contagious, and as much as I hate to admit it, she’s usually right about these things.
I let out a laugh and nod, my resolve softening. “Okay, one drink or two might make this day better.”
The grin on Adeline’s face grows even bigger, and she claps her hands together like she’s just won the lottery. “That’s my girl!”
We did, in fact, not stop after one or two drinks. When Adeline and I are together, we have this uncanny ability to turn a casual night out into one you mostly see in movies.
Before I know it, we were dancing on tables, singing karaoke at the top of our lungs—and if I recall, the second bar didn’t even have karaoke, but Addie found a microphone, so we decided to put the karaoke in bar .
Now we’re in a club in SoHo. The pounding bass reverberates through the air, making it impossible not to dance. Colorful lights flash around, and with each movement, we feel part of the vibrant energy pulsing through the room.
We push our way through the captivating, crowded dance floor, laughing and weaving between groups of people. Adeline leads the way, pulling me into the center where the music is the loudest. And then, we dance, our bodies moving in sync with the rhythm.
There’s a certain kind of freedom in letting go, allowing your brain to relax, not thinking of every small detail the world presents, and just being. It’s the kind of release I didn’t know I was desperate for to just relax after months of being nervous and working my ass off.
“Let’s get another shot!” I shout over the music, catching glimpses of Adeline’s beautiful smile as she twirls in joy. With every movement, she exudes a sensual confidence that draws others to us, transforming the dance floor into our own personal show. I can’t help but smile, warmth blooming in my chest—she’s always had this effortless way of commanding a room, and tonight is no exception. She’s an enchanting siren who could captivate anyone with just one look from her dark almond eyes
A pair of big, rough hands lands on my waist, grabbing onto my hips. Startled, I turn around to find a tall man standing behind me, his blue eyes locked on mine with a smug smirk that is too confident for his own good, like many other men here tonight.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, but before I get the chance to answer, he pulls me tighter, his grip almost possessive. Why do they even ask when they’ll take it without permission? He forcefully guides my arms around his neck, and I freeze, unsure how to react. This unknown man takes my hesitation as a yes, and he presses his front to mine, moving to the music—out of rhythm, I must add.
“You’re gorgeous,” he says, his nasty whiskey breath blowing over my face, making my skin crawl. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. I need him away from me.
I try to shift, to pull my hands away, but once again, this man takes it as an invitation and spins me around, now pressing his erection to my back. I stumble slightly, feeling even more uncomfortable but, most of all, trapped. The music blares around me, but it’s lost its beauty, turning into a chaotic noise that mirrors the panic in my chest. All I can feel is his unwanted hands on my body. My body feels frozen, paralyzed, as if it’s in shock, unsure of how to react. Why can’t I stop him? Push him away? One word echoes in my mind. Help.
“Hey, back off,” a voice cuts through the music, sharp and unwavering. I turn my head to find Adeline, her stern face a picture of no-nonsense fury. She plants her hands on her hips. “She’s not interested. Move along, dickhead.”
The man doesn’t budge immediately. Instead, he lets out a low, mocking laugh, his grip on my arm loosening but not releasing completely. “Relax, we’re just dancing,” he says, his tone dripping with condescension as his eyes flick between me and Adeline.
I stiffen, instinctively leaning away from him, but Adeline isn’t having it. She steps closer, her expression hardening. “I said back. Off.” Her voice is louder now, cutting through the bass of the music.
He finally lets go, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, fine,” he mutters, but not before leaning in closer than necessary, his breath brushing against my ear. “You’re a five anyway,” he sneers before disappearing into the crowd.
I don’t care about random men’s opinions of me—not in the slightest—but Adeline sure does. “YOUR MOTHER IS A FIVE!” she yells after him, her brows furrowed in fierce anger as she glares at his retreating figure. A few people stop dancing to stare, but Addie doesn’t notice.
The absurdity of her response catches me off guard, and I burst out laughing, the sound bubbling up before I can stop it. Even in situations like this, she manages to make me feel better. It’s one of those deep, uncontrollable belly laughs that shakes my shoulders and leaves me gasping for air. When my eyes meet Adeline’s, it only makes it worse—I laugh even harder.
Her eyes shoot daggers at the guy’s back, but the corners of her lips twitch. Amusement creeps into her expression, and within seconds, she’s laughing with me. We clutch at each other, laughing until tears form in the corners of our eyes, and the tension of the moment is nothing but a distant memory.
When the laughter dies out, I once again bring up my suggestion, “How about that shot?”
Adeline nods eagerly, her earlier irritation forgotten as we head to the red bar that stretches across the room. Its polished surface gleams under the soft glow of the overhead lights. Rows of gleaming liquor bottles line the back shelves, and the bartender stands ready as we approach, his shoulder-length hair adding to his rugged appearance. My brain immediately conjures up a story about him. He looks like a rock star, so he probably plays the electric guitar and sings in a band on the weekends. I have a strong urge to ask him.
“Heeeey,” Adeline and I sing in unison, and my curiosity takes over—or rather, my drunkenness. “Are you in a band?” I sound like a groupie. But a fun and hot groupie, at least that’s what Adeline would say.
He chuckles, a hint of glee in his eyes as he looks at the two of us. “I wish, gorgeous,” he replies, his voice carrying a slight raspiness, “but sadly, I’m just a bartender.”
He called me gorgeous . Despite the slight embarrassment, a warm feeling spreads through me. When did I become that girl? The one who gets flustered by a compliment from a handsome man? Has it been that long since someone actually gave me attention—not counting the man who snuck up behind me moments ago?
Adeline elbows me, a mischievous grin on her face. “I think he likes you,” she whispers teasingly, and I roll my eyes at her.
“Oh, shut up,” I say, trying to keep my cool and praying he didn’t hear her.
“What would you like to drink?” he asks, a small smile tugging on his lips.
Adeline lifts two fingers in the air. “Two tequila shots, please.”
The bartender nods, his smile widening a bit. “Coming right up,” he says before grabbing the tequila bottle. While waiting for him to pour the shots, I take out my phone and open social media for a quick check. I click through my stories, smiling as I watch Adeline sing to the bar’s patrons.
There’s a message from Leora filled with laughing emojis as a response to that specific video. I check who else has viewed my stories because I’m obviously human, and when I see a particular name, my heart stops for a second. Liam Ayoub.
Why has he been watching my stories? He doesn’t follow me anymore and he hasn’t watched my stories in a very long time. Not that I’ve been checking.
I have. I have been checking from time to time.
I tap on the profile I know all too well, my fingers trembling ever so slightly. Needing to see more of him. But to my dismay, it’s private, and I can’t see anything except his profile picture. His dark hair is longer in the small picture, almost curling at the top, so unfairly perfect like his brother Lucas’s, and he’s smiling, a genuine smile that reaches his eyes—a smile I know too well.
A smile that once made me feel like the most important person in the world, a smile that made promises we never got to see, a smile that could melt my heart, even after all this time.
Before I can dwell any further, Adeline turns to me, a tequila shot in each hand. Her brow quirks. “Why are you smiling at your phone?” I hadn’t even noticed that I was smiling, so I quickly wipe it off my face. She puts the shots down on the bar with a knowing look and reaches for my phone.
“Oh, it’s Liam. Why aren’t you following each other?” I try to come up with a nonchalant, appropriate answer, but once again, I don’t have time to answer before I see Adeline’s finger tap the follow button.
Oh my God.
No.
No.
No.
I can't even ask her why she did that because why would I care? To Adeline, Liam is just our best friend’s husband’s brother. That’s it. No big deal.
My eyes go to my watch. It’s two in the morning! Who follows someone at two in the morning? Let alone your new boss, who’s also your ex. This is a mess. An epic, spiraling-into-chaos mess.
Oh, he’s going to think I’m drunk–which I am. But he doesn’t have to know that.
Maybe I’m lucky. Maybe he’s asleep. That gives me plenty of time to remove the follow request. Phew, crisis averted.
“Oh, look, he’s awake. He just followed you back. Should we ask him to join us?” Adeline asks as she hands me back my phone as if nothing happened.
I need to sit down, but all bar stools are occupied. The hint of panic builds quickly into a wave that tightens my chest. The misty sweat from all the dancing suddenly feels ice-cold against my spine, sending a shiver through me as I clutch the phone tightly.
Well, it seems to be too late to remove that follow request now.