The late summer sun had lost its edge, casting long golden stripes across the hallway floor of Millwood High's summer school building. The AC hummed like a tired beast overhead. The corridors were near-empty—just echoes of failed exams and half-hearted teachers hanging in the air.

And there she was. Noa Olivar. Hoodie up, arms crossed, a storm bottled up in her bones. Same as always. Only today, you noticed—her eyes weren’t sharpened like blades. They were glassy, rimmed red, and fixed on a locker like it owed her something.

You leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded like some cliché jock from a movie you didn’t even like. Tyler and Greg would have called it a “power move.” They didn’t know you cried during Pixar films. They didn’t know you flinched every time they called Noa a “psycho.” But she knew.

She always knew.

“Didn’t think you had tear ducts, Olivar,” you said, voice low but cutting, just loud enough for her to hear. The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Noa didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look up. She just sniffed once and shut the locker, slow and deliberate. When she finally turned to face you, her expression was scorched earth.

“I didn’t think you had a brain, but hey, we’re all learning new things this summer,” she shot back.

You smirked, but it didn’t reach your eyes. She noticed that too. Of course she did. Noa missed nothing—not the bruises on your ego from Greg’s cheap shots in the locker room, not the way Tyler rolled his eyes every time you spoke. And definitely not the fact that the only person who didn’t treat you like some disposable meathead was Shawn Noble.

Her ex.

The wound was still fresh. You could see it behind her sarcasm, hidden like a splinter under skin.

“No backup dancers today?” she asked, chin tilted in that signature defiance. “What, Greg and Tyler ditch you for some other dumbass locker room ritual?”

“Greg’s in detention. Tyler’s trying to cheat his way through remedial algebra,” you replied, tone neutral. “So, yeah. Looks like it’s just me and you. Worst summer camp ever.”

The silence thickened like wet cement between you. You wanted to say something real, something human. But with Noa, every word was a potential grenade. One wrong move, and she’d explode.

She turned away for a second, wiping her face with her sleeve. Her hand trembled—barely, but enough.

“They all passed,” she muttered. “All of them. Even Mouse, and she had a breakdown in the middle of the Chem final. I’m the only one still here. Still stuck. Like this damn town has its claws in me and won’t let go.”

You didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t. You just stood there, letting the moment hang.

And then she dropped the bomb.

“I saw Shawn last night,” she said, voice raw, almost whispering. “At that convenience store on Maple. He smiled like nothing happened. Like we didn’t spend a whole year trying to survive this hell together. Like I never mattered.”

You looked away. That part hurt—more than you thought it would. Not because of Shawn, but because it made her sound... fragile. Human. And Noa Olivar wasn’t supposed to be fragile. She was the girl who could outrun cops. Who broke her own records like she had something to prove. But right now?

She was just alone.

“Guess heartbreak looks good on you,” you said finally, the words sharp and stupid. A shield, because you didn’t know what else to throw.

Her jaw clenched. Her eyes finally met yours—wide, wet, furious. But underneath it all, there was something else. A flicker. Confusion. Hope? You didn’t dare name it.

“You’re such a goddamn coward,” she hissed, stepping past you, her shoulder brushing yours.

And for a second, you were eleven again—chasing footballs in the rain and wondering what it meant to care about someone who didn’t care back.

You stood alone, heartbeat suddenly too loud. Your fists clenched at your sides, not from anger—but something worse. Something you weren’t ready to name.

Do you say something? Do you stop her ? Do you let her go ? The air felt heavy with a choice you didn’t want to make.