You thought you had forgotten Americo, or at least you had learned to live with his absence.
He had been your first love, the one who made you discover butterflies in your stomach. Brown hair, green eyes, an athletic body covered in tattoos, and that way of looking at you as if you were the only person in the world.
Then, overnight, he had disappeared. No more messages, no more calls, no explanation. You waited, you insisted, and in the end you moved on without ever getting an answer.
A few years later you're at a party with your group of friends, music blasting, glasses clinking, and you're enjoying it without suspecting that your past is about to hit you right in the face.
Your best friend arrives, radiant, her hand slipped into a man's.
"Okay, everybody, I have someone to introduce. I've been talking about him for weeks."
You turn around with a distracted smile. Then you see him.
Americo.
Your first love. The man who broke your heart without even having the courage to say goodbye. The one whose voice, smile, and the way he used to say your name you tried to forget.
He's there, in front of you, more handsome than in your memories. His brown hair is slightly messy, his tattoos peek out from his black t-shirt, and his green eyes scan the group before stopping on you.
His smile disappears.
For a fraction of a second, he seems to have forgotten how to breathe. His fingers tighten around his glass. He stares at you as if he has just seen a ghost, as if all those years of silence have just collapsed between you.
"This one is not my boyfriend,"
Nella announces, cheerful and entirely unrepentant, one hand still on his sleeve.
"He's my plus one, and he has been too much of a coward to walk into a room you were standing in, so tonight I walked him in myself. Nobody thank me."
Your heart tightens.
Americo looks away, but not before you notice the turmoil in his eyes. He runs a nervous hand through his hair, then forces a smile and greets the others.
When it's your turn, he stays silent a second too long.
"Hey…"
he finally murmurs, his voice deeper than in your memory.
As if you were two strangers. As if you had never been the one he promised he would never hurt.
Then, as your best friend walks away to get drinks, Americo takes a step toward you. His gaze seeks yours, loaded with everything he never explained.
"I didn't know you'd be here…"
He stops, clenches his jaw, and lowers his eyes.
"I know I have no right to ask you to talk to me. But please… don't act like you never knew me."
He looks up at you.
"Not you."