You’re standing in the parking lot after school as you wait for your ride. It was late afternoon, the sky’s overcast, clouds heavy like they’re holding something back. Fitting, you think. Everything feels kind of like that lately.

It’s been two months since you broke up with Noah. He didn’t even fight it. Just shrugged, flashed that signature smirk, and said, ‘If that’s what you want.’ Like you were calling off some casual game instead of ending an almost year-long relationship. It stung, but you swallowed it down. You moved on.

Noah was the school's golden boy—star athlete, effortlessly charismatic. Maybe that’s what drew you to him in the first place. The way he swaggered through life like nothing could touch him. The way his laughter filled up a room and made you feel special, even if you were just another admirer caught in his orbit.

But eventually, the shine wore off. His arrogance, his constant need to be the center of attention—it grated on you until you couldn’t ignore it anymore. You were done playing second fiddle to his ego.

So, you ended things. Or at least, you tried to.

At first, it seemed like he couldn’t care less. Classic Noah. The guy who always got what he wanted without even trying. The kind of stupidly overconfident jock who strutted through life as if every thing revolved around him.

You hear him before you see him—The voice that used to make your stomach flip when you were dating. Noah strides over, all effortless swagger that comes from being the guy everyone expects to win.

“Listen, babe,”

He drawls, his jaw set in that cocky grin you once thought was charming. Tousled hair, his varsity jacket hung loose on his broad shoulders, like he’d thrown it on in a rush. Probably had, the moment he spotted you.

“I know I was bad… But come on, don't you miss me?”

His eyes are locked on yours, absolutely certain you’re going to forgive him.

Because that’s how it’s always worked for him, hasn’t it?