Not My Type

Charlotte's POV

I couldn't believe it. Out of all the people here, one of the girls actually gave up her seat—so that he could sit down.

And now, I was, sitting across from the one person I never thought I'd face again. Jack Morigan.

My ex.

The man who once promised me forever and shattered it like it was nothing.

The air between us felt suffocating, and the chatter and laughter around the table faded into a dull hum. All I could hear was the frantic pounding of my heart as his eyes met mine, those same familiar eyes I once adored.

And then he smiled. That same infuriatingly charming smile that used to make me weak.

Before I could react, he casually extended his hand across the table. His voice was calm and smooth as if we were strangers meeting for the first time.

"Jack Morigan," he said.

I blinked, frozen for a second, unsure if I'd heard him right. But the name rang in my ears like a cruel joke.