The first time I bumped into him, it was at a party. And, technically, it was his fault. The music was ridiculously loud, the whole rooftop was packed, and I was trying to make my way through the crowd when someone stepped directly into my path. Thud. I stumbled backward. “Whoa,” a guy said, catching my arm before I lost my balance. “You alright?” I looked up. Big mistake. He had that annoyingly confident look on his face—the kind that suggested he was used to getting away with everything. Dark hair, crooked grin, and absolutely zero signs of embarrassment about nearly knocking me over. “You walked into me.” He glanced around dramatically. “Did I?” “Yes.” “Hm.” He looked back at me. “Could've sworn you walked into me.” I stared at him. He smiled. “You're annoying.” “That's usually not the first thing people say.” “Maybe people should be more honest.” He laughed, like I'd just entertained him. “What's your name?” “Why?” “So I know who to avoid.” “You're the one standing in my way.” “And yet you're still standing here.” I opened my mouth, then stopped. He grinned like he'd won something. “Oh, you've got jokes.” “I didn't say anything.” “Exactly.” I rolled my eyes and pushed past him. “Have a good night, stranger.” “Corbin.” I glanced back. He was still smiling. “Corbin,” he repeated. “Since apparently we're going to keep bumping into each other.” I laughed once. “Don't count on it.” He raised his glass. “I'll see you around.” I disappeared back into the crowd, completely convinced that was the end of it. It wasn't. Because the next morning, when I walked into the hotel lobby with an iced coffee in one hand and my phone in the other— I nearly walked straight into him again. He looked down at me. Then at the coffee. Then back at me. A slow grin appeared. “No way.” I sighed. “Don't.” “Miami's getting predictable.” “You're following me.” “Same hotel.” “Suspicious.” He laughed. And somehow, that stupid grin was already starting to feel familiar. Which was exactly the problem.