SHE'S ALL MINE

The One That Got Away

The cool evening air hit my face as I stepped out of the bookstore, the door closing with a soft chime behind me. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, my fingers trembling slightly, not from the chill, but from something else. My heart was still racing, my thoughts spinning in a way I had not felt in a long time. It was Antonio. The stranger I felt like I knew all my life.

This is ridiculous, I thought, quickening my pace down the quiet street. My mind was trying to settle, to push the encounter away, but it clung to me like the scent of old books. That magnetic pull between us, the way our eyes had met so naturally, like it was not the first time but the hundredth. Our brief, electric connection felt too real to dismiss.

You do not even know anything about him but his name, the logical part of me scolded. But another part-the part that was still lingering back in the bookstore-did not care about logic. I had felt something. Something I was not used to feeling. Something I did not want to admit I wanted.

My feet slowed, my steps faltering as my mind played back to the scene. His smile-easy, unforced, as if they were already familiar. The way his eyes had lingered, dark and soft, like they saw something in me no one else had. And then the way I so stupidly did not give him my number.

I stopped walking, my breath catching in my throat. The city moved around me, cars passing, people walking by, but I felt like the air was heavy with regret, thick with missed opportunity. It hit me, Why didn't I give him my number?

I pressed a hand to my forehead and groaned softly. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, embarrassed at myself for letting the moment slip away. I was not one to let fear hold me back, but here I was, standing on the sidewalk, wishing I had just been enough to hand him my number or ask for his.

You could have just given him your number. It was right there, in your pocket, I chastised myself. The truth of it stung more than I wanted to admit. There had been a chance-an opening-and I had let it pass.

I looked over my shoulder, back toward the bookstore, my feet itching to turn around. What would he think if I walked back in, bold and unafraid, like some character in a movie, declaring that I could not leave without getting his number? I almost laughed at the thought. I was not that kind of person. But the thought of never seeing him again, of letting that connection disappear into nothing, gnawed at me.

It is too late. He is already gone. The more time passed, the more likely it was that the moment had slipped away for good. I did not even know where he was from, whether he was local or just passing through.

A wave of disappointment washed over me, stronger than I expected. There had been something about him, something I had not felt in years. The kind of feeling that stories were made of the kind that my practical, sensible self-did not believe in. had always thought love at first sight was a fairy tale. But now, after this encounter, I was not so sure. It had felt real. It had felt... inevitable.

I stood there, my mind warring with itself. I could turn back. It was not too far, and maybe he was still there, still standing in the fiction aisle, leafing through some book that had caught his attention. was lingering, waiting for me to return, hoping that I would walk back in.

Or he is already gone, my mind countered, the voice of reason louder than I wanted it to be. It was just a moment, and that is all it was meant to be.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to keep walking. My feet moved reluctantly, as if some part of me was still tethered to the bookstore, to him. I told herself it did not matter. I could always come back tomorrow. would run into him again. universe had a plan, and if it were meant to be, it would happen.

But even as I tried to convince myself, the regret settled in deeper, heavy, and unshakable. I had not felt something like this in a long time-had not let herself feel it. And now, when I finally had, I had walked away. Just like that.

As I crossed the street, the lights of the bookstore fading behind me, I felt a sharp pang of disappointment. I was not one to believe in signs or fate, but this time, I could not help but wonder. What if that moment had been something more? What if, just this once, I had missed something I was not supposed to miss?

And what if I never got another chance?

The thought lingered, bitter on my tongue, as I disappeared into the night.