My heart threatens to beat out of my rib cage as I watch him follow, down the hallway, pausing by the sign on the door. It creaks open, and my eyes lift to the row of mirrors in front of me where they hang above the sinks. I catch a quick peek of myself, cheeks flushed, eyes wide when the switch clicks, the room around me and the screen in my hand going dark.

A strip of safety lights kicks on along the baseboards, barely enough to see by and casting the space in a cool hue of blue. Barely enough to see him walk around the corner behind me. I swallow, my fist clenching tight around my phone, and when he steps behind me, my eyes close.

“Hi,” I say, weakly.

And I didn’t realize how desperate I’ve been for his voice until he answers, “Hey.”

It sounds the same and yet so different, deep and gravelly.

I feel the heat of him first, then a brush of his chest against my back. My body screams for him to touch me, like he promised he would if this moment ever happened.

The first sweep of his hand might as well be an electric current, every part of me settling in the line of contact he draws up my arm. I can’t think—only fall into this moment, his skin warming mine. He presses closer behind me, his fingers wrapping over my hip, and I feel his breath against the side of my face, then the light scrape of stubble against my bare shoulder.

I open my eyes to watch him through the mirror. He’s taken off the hat and sunglasses, but all I can make out are the lines of his nose, the curves of his cheekbones, the edges of his jaw, with the details just out of reach.

“Foster…” I trail off when his other hand skims up my arm to my neck. The tips of his fingers graze up my jawline before his thumb stops on my pounding pulse.

“Remi.”

The tension breaks the second my name leaves his lips. He tightens his grip on my neck and pulls me around, already backing me across the room by the time I face him. He dips down, his mouth grazing my collarbone and moving to my neck as my back hits the bluish-green tile beside the paper towel dispenser. My hands creep up his hard chest and then around to the back of his neck. I still have my phone clutched in one when my fingers push into his hair, and he groans, pinning me to the wall with his hips.

None of this can be real. The wandering boy I wasn’t supposed to fall for was long gone. No one I would ever hear from again, no one I’d ever touch.

“Foster.”

His name falls out, like my mouth has been waiting to say it again.