Dangerous proximity

Lana

The following day passed in a haze of frustration and restlessness. Sleep had evaded me for the second night in a row, Drew Dawson being the sole cause. His words haunted me. The way he looked at me haunted me. It was as though he were clawing his way back into my life—uninvited, but dangerously welcome.

By late afternoon, I gave up on trying to be productive and grabbed my keys. My feet carried me instinctively to my favorite spot: the lake.

When Jake and I were together, we’d come here often during the summers. Back then, it had been a place for love—now, it was a place for quiet. The lake stretched out like glass, reflecting the sky above in muted grays and blues. I settled onto the grass beneath an old oak tree, letting the gentle sound of water soothe my thoughts.

But the peace didn’t last long.

I heard footsteps on the gravel behind me. My entire body stiffened. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Do you have a tracking device on me or something?” I called out, refusing to look at him.

Drew’s deep chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. “I was here first. I think you’re following me.”

I turned to glare at him, but the words caught in my throat. Drew stood a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets, wearing a plain black t-shirt that hugged his frame and jeans that looked like they’d seen better days. His dark hair was messier than usual, like he’d been running his hands through it all day.

He looked dangerously good.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, forcing my voice to sound sharp. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Well,” he said, smirking, “now you do.”

“Lucky me,” I muttered under my breath.

He walked closer, and I cursed the way my pulse quickened. Without asking, he sank onto the grass beside me, stretching his legs out like we were old friends catching up.

“Drew,” I said in warning.

“What?” He leaned back on his elbows, his gaze fixed on the water. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “The lake or me?”

His smirk widened. “Both.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I turned back toward the water. “You’re impossible.”

We sat there in silence for a while. I tried to ignore him, but it was useless. Even when Drew wasn’t speaking, he filled every space around him.

Finally, he broke the silence. “So what happened between you and Jake?”

The question hit me like a slap. My head snapped toward him. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes sharp. “You were in love with him. So what happened?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is as if I'm the one dealing with you now.”

I stared at him, stunned. “Dealing with me? Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean.” Drew sat up, his expression unreadable. “You come back to town after five years, and you’re acting like everything’s fine when it’s obviously not. Something broke you, Lana. I can see it.”

His words stole the breath from my lungs. I stood up abruptly, brushing the grass from my jeans. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Don’t I?” Drew’s voice followed me as I walked away. “I know you’re scared of being here. Scared of facing Jake. Scared of me.”

I froze mid-step, my heart hammering.

“I’m not scared of you,” I said without turning around.

“You should be.”

His voice was low, almost a whisper, but I heard it as clearly as if he’d spoken right into my ear.

I spun to face him. He was still sitting there, watching me with those dark, knowing eyes. My throat felt dry.

“Why do you even care, Drew?” I demanded. “Why are you here? Why are you always here?”

He stood slowly, his movements measured, deliberate. When he finally stopped in front of me, we were so close I could see the faint scar on his left eyebrow—a mark I’d always wondered about but never asked.

“Maybe because you make it hard not to be,” he said softly.

I swallowed, my body betraying me with how it reacted to him. He was too close, his presence overwhelming. I hated how he could do this to me with just a few words, a look.

“You’re Jake’s brother,” I said, my voice trembling. “We’re not—this can’t happen.”

“Who says it’s happening?” Drew’s lips curled into a half-smile, but there was no humor in it. “I’m just here, Lana. Same as you.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there—confused, frustrated, and far too aware of the way my heart was pounding.

That night, I lay in bed replaying everything he’d said.

You make it hard not to be.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to forget him. To forget his voice, his face, his stupid smirk that somehow made me want to both slap him and kiss him at the same time.

But I couldn’t.

Because Drew Dawson wasn’t just a complication. He was a storm. And deep down, I knew I wouldn’t survive getting caught in it.

The next morning, I was up early, determined to distract myself with errands. But as I stood in line at the local grocery store, I felt it again—that strange awareness.

I turned, and there he was.

Drew was leaning against a display of canned goods, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with an infuriating smirk.

“Are you seriously following me now?” I snapped.

“Pure coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Drew pushed away from the display, closing the space between us in two easy strides. “Then what do you believe in, Lana?”

“Boundaries,” I shot back.

He laughed softly, the sound sending shivers down my spine. “Boundaries only matter if you want them to.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the cashier called me over. Drew stepped back, letting me escape—for now.

As I left the store, I realized my hands were shaking.

Drew Dawson was going to be the death of me.