001

The taxi pulled up to Westmore Academy, and Luca Hampton's stomach twisted into knots so tight he could barely breathe.

Through the window, he stared at the building that would be his home away from home for the next year.

"That'll be thirty-seven fifty, kid," the driver said, not bothering to hide his impatience.

Luca fumbled with his worn wallet, counting out crumpled bills and loose change.

His mother had given him exactly forty dollars for the trip, and he needed every penny of the change for lunch money until his work-study job kicked in next week.

The driver rolled his eyes as Luca counted out quarters, but Luca had learned not to care about looks like that anymore. Pride was a luxury he couldn't afford.

"Keep the change," he muttered, grabbing his battered duffel bag and stepping into the drizzle.

The taxi sped away, leaving him alone on the circular driveway. Students streamed past him in designer clothes and confident clusters, their laughter echoing off the walls. Nobody looked at him twice, he was just another scholarship kid trying to blend into their golden world.

But then he saw him.

Ryan Thompson stood by the main entrance like some kind of teenage god, all six feet and one inch of him.

His blonde hair caught what little sunlight managed to break through the clouds, and even from fifty feet away, those blue eyes were unmistakable. He'd grown broader since middle school, his shoulders filling out his navy blazer in a way that made Luca's mouth go dry.

There was a confidence in his posture now that hadn't been there two years ago, the easy stance of someone who owned every room he walked into.

Luca's heart pounded against his chest so hard he wondered if people could hear it. Two years. Two years since that night in his bedroom in San Diego, when they'd leaned so close their lips almost touched before Ryan's phone rang and shattered the moment. Two years since Luca's world had crumbled and his family had packed up their broken dreams and moved away.

And now here Ryan was, looking like every fantasy Luca had tried to bury, and Luca looked like he'd been dragged through hell backwards.

Their eyes met across the courtyard, and time stopped.

Ryan's perfect composure cracked for just a moment. his eyes widening, lips parting slightly like he'd forgotten how to breathe. For a heartbeat, he looked exactly like the boy who used to steal glances at Luca during math class, who'd invented excuses to walk him home, who'd almost kissed him in the golden light of San Diego.

Then the mask slid back into place, and Ryan was walking toward him with that easy smile that probably made half the school swoon.

"Luca Hampton," Ryan called out, and God, his voice had gotten deeper. "Right on time."

"Ryan." Luca's voice came out as barely a whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hi."

"Dad told me you'd be coming today." Ryan stopped just close enough that Luca could smell his cologne, something expensive and clean that made Luca acutely aware of his own discount body spray. "I'm supposed to show you around. Get you settled in."

The casual tone cut deeper than any insult could have. Like they were strangers. Like those nights they'd spent on the phone talking until dawn had never happened. Like that moment when the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of them and the space between their lips had never existed.

"You don't have to," Luca managed. "I know you're probably busy with... important things."

Ryan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "It's no problem. Come on, let's get you out of this rain."

They walked through the entrance hall in silence, Other students moved around them like schools of fish, chattering about weekend plans and college applications. A few girls waved at Ryan with bright smiles and fluttering eyelashes, but he barely acknowledged them.

"Your schedule," Ryan said, pulling a paper from his blazer pocket. "Dad made sure you got into all the advanced classes. AP Chemistry, AP Literature, Calculus BC. Looks like you're still a genius."

There was something in his voice, pride? Fondness? but it was gone so quickly Luca wondered if he'd imagined it.

"Your locker's 247, combination's on the back of the schedule. Cafeteria's down this hall, library's on the second floor, gym's in the east wing." Ryan rattled off directions like a tour guide, professional and distant. "Any questions?"

A million questions burned on Luca's tongue. *Why didn't you call? Why didn't you write? Do you ever think about that night? Do you remember how close we came to changing everything? Do you hate me for disappearing? Do you know that not a day goes by that I don't think about you?*

Instead, he said, "I think I can figure it out."

"Good." Ryan handed him the schedule, their fingers brushing for just a moment. The touch sent electricity shooting up Luca's arm, and from the way Ryan jerked his hand back, he'd felt it too. "I should... I have practice before the first period."

"Of course you do." The words came out more bitter than Luca had intended.

Ryan's eyes flashed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Luca clutched his schedule tighter. "Just that some things never change. You're still the golden boy, and I'm still..." He gestured at himself with one hand – the secondhand clothes, the nervous energy, the way he seemed to take up too much space and not enough all at once.

"Still what?" Ryan's voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

"Still nobody."

The words paused between them like a challenge. Ryan stepped closer, close enough that Luca could see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, and could count the individual eyelashes that had always been ridiculously long for a boy.

"You were never nobody," Ryan said, and his voice was rough with something that sounded dangerously close to the boy Luca remembered. "Not to me."

The bell rang, sharp and jarring, breaking whatever spell had fallen over them. Ryan stepped back like he'd been burned, his easy mask sliding back into place.

"I'll see you around," he said, already turning away.

"Ryan, wait—"

But he was gone, disappearing into the crowd of students with the fluid grace of someone who belonged here