Chasing Cherry

POV: Sophie

I stared at the empty suitcase sprawled on my bed, a half-full glass of wine in my hand. Dozens of thoughts swirled through my mind, each one screaming that this was a bad idea.

It didn’t seem like a good idea.

Spending the weekend at Ben’s parents’ lake house sounded harmless when Chloe first suggested it. A little getaway from work, fresh air, and some wine by the water. But then she dropped the real bomb: they’d invited one of Ben’s friends to meet me.

A blind date.

Why were they so intent on fixing my love life? Chloe and Ben couldn’t seem to accept that I was fine on my own. Sure, I hadn’t gone on a date in months—or had a real relationship in years—but that didn’t mean I was broken or needed saving. And after the last disastrous blind date they set me up on—with Ben’s cousin who wouldn’t stop talking about himself—I vowed never again.

I sighed and took another sip of wine, the familiar bitterness of regret lingering. Two boyfriends in my life, and both left scars I still carried.

Fred was my first, back in college. We were together for eight months, though it felt longer because of the intensity. He was everything I wasn’t—spontaneous, free-spirited, a surfer who never followed the rules. Being with him was like riding a wave, thrilling but unpredictable. I, on the other hand, craved structure and control. I needed to know what was coming next, and Fred thrived on surprises.

We loved fiercely, but we were young, and it didn’t last. He broke up with me first, then asked me to get back together. I refused. Finally, I ended it—for good—with a text message. I didn’t have the courage to do it face-to-face, because deep down, I knew he’d convince me to stay. After that, he vanished from my life, though his memory lingered. To this day, the smell of cherries or the sight of a surfer on the beach brought him back like a ghost I couldn’t shake.

Then there was Stephan. Dark-haired, blue-eyed perfection, at least on the surface. We dated for two years, and I thought he was my dream man. Until I discovered he’d been sleeping with other women—some of whom I considered friends. That betrayal shattered me, leaving walls around my heart so high, even I couldn’t see over them.

I focused on my work instead. Work wouldn’t cheat on me, wouldn’t leave me questioning my worth. Work was safe.

That’s when Chloe entered my life. She was insistent on breaking through my defenses, and over the past three years, we’d become inseparable. She was my first real friend in years. But with friendship came her relentless matchmaking. And now here I was, wine in hand, staring at an empty suitcase, wondering if I’d lost my mind for agreeing to this.

The sharp chime of my phone pulled me from my thoughts. It was a video call from Chloe.

“Hi, Sophie!” she chirped.

“Hi.”

“Have you packed yet?” she asked, grinning. I flipped the camera to show her my empty suitcase.

“Sophie! No, no, no! Start packing right now,” she commanded.

“I don’t know, Chloe,” I said, my voice uncertain. “I think I should just accept my fate and start buying cats. Lots of them.”

She burst out laughing. “Stop it. You’re not going to be a cat lady. Pack that suitcase. This weekend will be amazing.”

“The lake house, fine,” I said, setting the glass of wine down. “But the blind date? You’re locking me up for a whole weekend with a stranger!”

“We’ll be there too, remember? And Rick is really cool—you’ll love him.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Your last setup was a disaster.”

“I admit, Ben’s cousin was a mistake,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But trust me, this time I’ve got it right. You and Rick are perfect for each other. You both love to cook, to read, and you’re both ridiculously stubborn.”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach despite myself. I hated that she could do this to me—spark hope where I’d tried to bury it.

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “Pick me up at six.”

“Yes! Six sharp. Don’t be late!”

I hung up, grabbed my suitcase, and started packing. A bathing suit I’d bought years ago but never used. Light, breezy clothes. A pair of comfy pants and a sweatshirt. Two bottles of wine, carefully wrapped in my coziest sweater, and two books, just in case things went south.

By the time I finished, it was already six. Chloe and Ben pulled up in their car, honking the horn. I dragged my suitcase outside just as Chloe leapt out and hugged me.

“It’s going to be amazing!” she squealed.

“I hope so,” I said, forcing a smile. Ben loaded my suitcase into the car, which was already packed with fishing gear, and we hit the road.

The three-hour drive passed in a blur of conversation, most of it Ben singing Rick’s praises. According to him, Rick was the kind of guy who could charm anyone, a guy who had it all figured out. By the time we arrived, I felt like I already knew him—or at least the version Ben had described.

As we pulled into the driveway, I spotted a car already parked near the lake house. My heart raced. Excitement. Anxiety. I couldn’t tell the difference.

Ben rolled down the window and called out, “Rick, we’re here!”

Chloe leaned over and whispered, “Wait until you see how handsome he is.”

I stepped out of the car, grabbing my suitcase with trembling hands. Chloe’s words echoed in my mind, and I turned toward the house.

The door opened, and a figure stepped out.

My breath caught in my throat.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark blond hair and piercing green eyes I knew too well. My suitcase nearly slipped from my grasp as realization hit me.

Rick wasn’t a stranger.

He was Fred.

My Fred.

And as his gaze locked with mine, I saw the exact moment he recognized me too.

He had always been tall, but now he was commanding. His broad shoulders stretched his T-shirt in a way that hinted at hours spent at the gym—or maybe just the effortless strength he’d always carried. The dark blond hair I once loved running my fingers through was no longer the shaggy, carefree mess of his college days. Now it was cropped and neat, framing his strong features: a defined jaw now accompanied by a perfectly trimmed beard that added a mature, rugged edge to his face.

And then there were his eyes—those green eyes that once saw right through me. They hadn’t changed at all. The same piercing intensity, like they could read every thought I tried to bury. I saw the exact moment they landed on me. His expression shifted, his jaw slackened, and his lips parted slightly as recognition set in.

My knees weakened, a sharp current of shock surging through me. For a fleeting second, I thought I might actually collapse, but instead, I froze. My suitcase slipped from my grip and hit the ground with a dull thud that felt deafening in the silence.

Fred didn’t move at first. He looked as paralyzed as I felt. His lips moved, forming my name the way he used to—soft, familiar, and full of something I couldn’t define. “Sophi...”

My breath hitched at the sound. It was as if no time had passed, as if I were still the same girl hopelessly in love with him. His voice cracked open something I’d tried to keep locked away.

I barely heard Chloe’s voice calling my name. It felt distant, muffled, like I was underwater.

“Fred...” His name slipped out before I could stop it. A whisper, shaky and broken, as if I didn’t believe he was real.

“Sophie, what’s wrong?” Chloe’s voice sharpened, jolting me back into reality. She appeared in front of me, blocking my view of him for a moment.

I blinked hard, forcing myself to focus. My hands trembled as I straightened, but my gaze flicked past her instinctively, back to Fred.

He was walking toward me now, his movements deliberate, his expression unreadable.

“Hi again,” he said, his voice steady but with an edge of something—amusement? Tension? My mind was too chaotic to process it.

“Hi again,” I echoed stupidly, my brain latching onto the only words it could find. I could feel my cheeks flush with heat.

Rick was Fred. My Fred.

“How—what—” The words jammed in my throat as the pieces of the puzzle started fitting together in my mind, but they didn’t make sense.

Chloe’s voice broke through the haze. “Wait, do you two know each other?”

Fred answered before I could. “We used to date.”

My stomach twisted at his casual tone, as if he were mentioning something trivial—like a movie he’d seen years ago.

“Wait, what?” Chloe practically screeched, her eyes darting between us.

“How... How can you be the Rick they told me about?” My voice was sharper now, but it still shook. “Your name is Frederick.”

He stopped just a step away, his eyes never leaving mine. “When I joined the firm, there was already a Fred,” he explained calmly. “So they started calling me Rick to avoid confusion.”

And then he took another step closer. That’s when his cologne hit me. The same damn scent. Woody and amber, with a subtle sweetness and a sharp, citrusy edge. It was like a time capsule, yanking me back to late-night drives, tangled sheets, and the way his arms felt around me.

I nearly flinched. How could something so small undo years of carefully constructed walls?

Fred—Rick—whatever he was now, bent down to pick up my suitcase. His biceps flexed slightly as he lifted it, his movements as effortless as ever.

“Let me help you with this,” he said, his voice smooth, carrying a faint note of familiarity that both comforted and unnerved me. Before I could protest, he was already heading inside.

As the door clicked shut behind him, I turned to Chloe, who was still staring at me like she couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed.

“Chloe,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “I can’t believe you set me up on a blind date with my ex.”