Chapter 9

As Chloe, at Columbia, I was in Greenwich Village one Saturday.

Lost in my own thoughts, mostly about how to make Ethan Cole notice me for more than five seconds.

I wandered into Cosmic Comics, a small, beloved indie comic shop.

The bell above the door jingled.

And there he was. Liam Walker.

He was standing by a rack of graphic novels, looking somber.

He looked different without Ethan beside him. Quieter. More thoughtful.

On instinct, before I could stop myself, I said, "Liam?"

He looked up, startled.

His eyes met mine.

For a second, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition.

Then it was gone.

He didn't know Chloe.

"Sorry," I stammered, feeling my face flush. "You just... you look like someone I know."

A lame excuse.

He gave a small, polite smile.

"It happens," he said, his voice soft.

He didn't ask who. He didn't try to continue the conversation.

He just nodded curtly and turned back to the comics.

A missed connection. Or maybe not even a connection to miss.

He was just being polite to a stranger who'd mistakenly called his name.

Disappointment, a familiar ache.