Chapter 1: The Unwelcome Spark

The key turned in the lock with a familiar click, and Chloe pushed open the door to find her world tilted off its axis.

"Surprise!" Sandra's voice carried that same sultry undertone that had haunted Chloe's dreams for years, though she'd never admitted it to herself. There she stood in the middle of their living room—their living room, hers and Mark's—like she owned the space already.

Chloe's breath caught. Four years. It had been four years since she'd last seen Sandra Chen in person, though social media had tortured her with glimpses of her former best friend's increasingly glamorous life. Nothing could have prepared her for this moment, for the way Sandra's presence seemed to electrify the very air.

"What are you doing here?" The words tumbled out before Chloe could stop them, sounding harsher than intended.

Sandra's laugh was liquid honey. "Mark didn't tell you? I'm your new temporary roommate." She gestured toward the guest room with a theatrical flourish. "My housing situation fell through at the last minute, and when I mentioned it to Mark at that networking event last week, he insisted I stay here until I find something permanent."

Of course he did. Mark's generosity was one of the things Chloe loved about him—and apparently, one of the things that would destroy her carefully constructed peace.

"I—" Chloe started, then stopped. What could she say? That having Sandra here felt dangerous in ways she couldn't articulate? That seeing her childhood friend's curves wrapped in that form-fitting black dress made her mouth go dry? "That's... great. How long are you thinking?"

"Just a few weeks. Maybe a month." Sandra's eyes glittered with something that looked suspiciously like mischief. "Don't look so thrilled, Chloe."

The sarcasm stung because it was accurate. Chloe forced a smile, the same diplomatic expression she used with difficult clients at the design firm. "Sorry, you just caught me off guard. It's wonderful to see you."

"Is it?" Sandra stepped closer, and Chloe caught a whiff of her perfume—something expensive and intoxicating that definitely hadn't been in her arsenal when they were teenagers. "Because you look like you've seen a ghost."

Or a temptation I thought I'd buried forever.

"Where's Mark?" Chloe asked, desperate to change the subject and equally desperate for the buffer of her boyfriend's presence.

"Grocery run. He's making his famous pasta tonight to welcome me properly." Sandra's lips curved into a smile that was anything but innocent. "He's such a sweetheart, Chloe. You're lucky to have found someone so... accommodating."

The way she said 'accommodating' made it sound like a weakness rather than a virtue. Chloe bristled. "Mark is wonderful."

"I'm sure he is." Sandra's tone was agreeable, but her eyes told a different story. They raked over Chloe's body with an intensity that made her skin burn. "You look good, Chloe. Really good. That whole domestic goddess thing suits you."

Heat flooded Chloe's cheeks. She was suddenly hyperaware of her appearance—the way her jeans hugged her hips, how her fitted sweater emphasized her curves. Under Sandra's gaze, she felt simultaneously overdressed and completely exposed.

"I should go change," she mumbled, fleeing toward the bedroom.

"Don't change on my account," Sandra called after her, and Chloe could hear the smirk in her voice.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind her, and Chloe leaned against it, heart hammering. This was ridiculous. Sandra was her oldest friend, someone she'd shared everything with before life pulled them in different directions. So what if she'd always been the more adventurous one? So what if she'd grown into the kind of woman who turned heads wherever she went?

So what if Chloe had spent her teenage years harboring feelings she'd never dared to name?

She'd moved on. Built a life. Found stability with Mark, who loved her completely and offered her the kind of future she'd always thought she wanted. She wasn't going to let Sandra's sudden reappearance unravel four years of careful construction.

But when she emerged twenty minutes later in a looser sweater and yoga pants—armor disguised as casualwear—Sandra was lounging on their couch like she'd never left. Her long legs were crossed elegantly, and she'd helped herself to a glass of wine from the bottle Mark kept for special occasions.

"Better?" Sandra asked, raising the glass in a mock toast.

"Much." The lie tasted bitter on Chloe's tongue.

The front door opened, saving her from further conversation. Mark appeared with grocery bags, his face lighting up when he saw both women.

"There she is!" He set the bags down and pulled Chloe into a warm hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I was just telling Sandra how excited you'd be to have her stay with us."

Chloe forced herself to relax into his embrace, drawing comfort from his familiar warmth. This was real. This was safe. This was the life she'd chosen.

"Absolutely," she said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "It'll be just like old times."

Sandra's laugh was soft and knowing. "Oh, I doubt that. We're not sixteen anymore, are we, Chloe?"

No, they weren't. At sixteen, Chloe had been all sharp angles and nervous energy, content to live in Sandra's shadow. At sixteen, she'd been able to convince herself that the flutter in her stomach when Sandra smiled was just friendship. At sixteen, she'd been innocent enough to believe she could keep her secrets forever.

At twenty-eight, she was discovering that some hungers only grew stronger when starved.

Dinner was a special kind of torture. Mark, bless him, was in full host mode, regaling Sandra with stories about his latest architectural projects while she listened with rapt attention. Every so often, Sandra's foot would brush against Chloe's under the table—innocent accidents that sent electricity shooting up her leg.

"So, Sandra," Mark said as he refilled their wine glasses, "Chloe mentioned you're in finance now? That's quite a change from the art major I remember."

Sandra's smile was sharp as a blade. "People change, Mark. Sometimes in ways that surprise even themselves." Her eyes found Chloe's across the table. "Don't they, Chloe?"

"I... yes. I suppose they do."

"Though some things never change," Sandra continued, her voice dropping to that husky register that had always made Chloe's pulse race. "The important things. The connections that really matter."

Mark nodded along, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension crackling between the two women. "It's amazing how you two have stayed friends all these years. High school friendships rarely survive, but you've both made the effort."

Effort. If only he knew how much effort Chloe had put into not thinking about Sandra, into building a life that felt safe and contained and utterly unlike the chaos Sandra represented.

"Some bonds are unbreakable," Sandra said, never taking her eyes off Chloe. "No matter how much time passes, no matter how far apart you drift... when you're meant to be together, you find your way back."

The words hung in the air like a promise and a threat.

Later, after Mark had gone to bed, Chloe found herself unable to sleep. She padded to the kitchen for a glass of water, moving quietly through the darkened apartment. The guest room door was closed, but she could see light seeping underneath.

She should go back to bed. Should pretend this day had never happened, that Sandra's presence wasn't already rewiring her carefully ordered world.

Instead, she found herself standing frozen in the hallway when the guest room door opened.

Sandra emerged wearing a silk nightgown that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The thin straps barely contained her breasts, and the hem barely covered her thighs. In the dim light filtering from the kitchen, she looked like every fantasy Chloe had spent years trying to forget.

"Can't sleep either?" Sandra's voice was a whisper that seemed to echo in the silence.

Chloe's mouth had gone completely dry. She tried to speak, tried to look away, tried to do anything other than stand there drinking in the sight of Sandra's body like a woman dying of thirst.

Sandra noticed. Of course she noticed. A slow, predatory smile spread across her face as she took a step closer.

"See something you like, Chloe?"

The question hung between them, loaded with years of unspoken want and carefully buried desires. Chloe's heart hammered against her ribs so hard she was sure Sandra could hear it.

"I..." The word came out as barely a breath.

Sandra closed the distance between them until they were inches apart. Close enough that Chloe could feel the heat radiating from her skin, could smell that intoxicating perfume, could see the way Sandra's pupils had dilated in the dim light.

"It's okay," Sandra murmured, her hand coming up to trace the line of Chloe's jaw with feather-light fingers. "I've been waiting a long time for you to look at me like that."

The touch sent shockwaves through Chloe's system. Every nerve ending came alive, every carefully constructed wall began to crumble. She wanted to lean into that touch, wanted to close her eyes and surrender to the feelings she'd kept locked away for so long.

Instead, she jerked backward, breaking the spell.

"I should—Mark is—" She stumbled over the words, backing toward the bedroom.

Sandra didn't pursue her, but her voice followed like silk in the darkness: "Sweet dreams, Chloe. I'll be right here when you're ready to stop running."

Chloe made it to the bedroom and closed the door with trembling hands. Mark was fast asleep, completely unaware that his girlfriend's world had just shifted on its axis. She slipped back into bed beside him, but sleep was impossible.

Because Sandra was right. She had been running—for years—from a truth that was now sleeping twenty feet away in a silk nightgown and a knowing smile.

And for the first time in her adult life, Chloe wasn't sure she had the strength to keep running.