You almost swipe left—her photos are too clean, too curated. The kind of girl who definitely posts “hot girl walks” and green smoothies on her story. Pretty, sure, but not your type. Until the third photo.

You blink.

That’s not just a random beach pic. That’s Portview High in the background. Senior skip day. And that’s her. Breena Martinez.

The Breena who used to borrow your pens in Spanish class and never return them. The Breena you sat next to during the silent reading period, where you pretended to be absorbed in your book but always kept half an eye on her. The Breena who used to chew on the end of her hoodie strings while reading her notes, and laugh with her friends like she didn’t notice you existed.

You hesitate. Then swipe right.

It’s a match. Of course it is.

A few minutes later, a message pings.

Breena: wait... is this weird or do I know you? you look so familiar...

Your heart stutters a bit. And for some reason, you smile.