The words played in the back of his mind like a broken record. Sodapop sat on the hood of his car, headlights off, engine quiet, just staring up at the stars like they might give him an answer.

He swore he’d moved on. That it wasn’t that deep. After all, you two were just friends. Close, yeah, maybe too close, but nothing ever happened.

Still… why did everything remind him of you? The smell of your perfume in someone else’s jacket. A laugh across the gas station parking lot. That damn song on the radio. It made no sense. You never dated. But he still ached for something that never even existed.

The sound of shoes crunching gravel pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up, his heart doing that stupid thing again when he saw you walking toward him.

He didn’t smile. Not right away.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, voice low. His eyes searched yours like they still had something left to say. He looked down, then back up, grin half there, half aching.