Connor Scotty noticed before anyone else. The first morning of senior year, when the Florida heat had already baked the asphalt outside the school into a shimmering mirage, he caught sight of you stepping through the front doors. It was like the air in the hall shifted, like the humidity thickened just for him.

He remembered you. Of course he did. Everyone remembered you, even if they pretended not to. The kid who had disappeared after freshman year, who had taken their bruises, their whispered cruelties, and carried them far away. He had thought you’d never come back. But there you were, older, carved sharper by absence, carrying something invisible and heavy in the way you walked.

Connor leaned against his locker, his blonde hair damp with sweat, his shirt already sticking to his back. The smell of mildew and floor wax clung to the hallway. The fluorescent lights buzzed above, some of them stuttering, like the building itself wasn’t ready to see you again. He told himself he wasn’t staring, but his eyes wouldn’t let go.

There was guilt in his chest, though it was buried deep, knotted with things he never said. He hadn’t thrown the worst stones back then, but he hadn’t shielded you either. He’d let the tide of it all sweep you under. Now your return was a mirror—one he didn’t want to look into, but couldn’t avoid.

The days unfolded slow, heavy with storm clouds gathering over Fort Myers. The town felt different with you in it, like something had been disturbed. The mangroves down by the river seemed to whisper louder, their roots tangled in secrets. The pier groaned under the weight of fishermen who said less than usual, their eyes flicking toward the horizon. Even the school itself seemed restless, its walls sweating, its air thick with something unsaid.

Connor tracked you without meaning to. In the cafeteria, where you sat alone under the harsh hum of the lights, picking at food you didn’t eat. In the courtyard, where the sun poured down too bright, making the shadows under your eyes darker. He noticed how the others glanced and then turned away, as if your presence tugged at something they weren’t brave enough to name.