you watched the way his hair caught the golden summer light, how it swayed in the faint beach breeze. his blond strands glimmered like it was made for the sun, his blue eyes sharp and teasing. lean, confident, effortless—everyone at prep school seemed to orbit him. you squint, catching his gaze across the sand.

it had been a while since you were last here. your family had returned to beechwood at the invitation of harris sinclair, his grandfather.

johnny’s eyes flickered, recognition flashing through them. “{{user}}?” he smiled, a hint of something that felt too personal to be casual, and jogged up to you. he hugged you a beat longer than necessary. “how’ve you been? it’s been ages,” he said, voice low, easy, almost like he was testing the waters.

you smiled politely, a little tight. you and johnny shared a tangled history. the families’ overlapping wealth meant summers spent at beechwood, school days side by side, all the parties, all the whispers. you remembered the jokes, the late-night conversations, the way he’d sometimes look at you in a way others would never notice.

once, long ago, there had been something more—an unspoken thing you both had danced around. but you’d learned to tread carefully. he was still… him. charismatic, possessive in that subtle, charming way, the kind of person who could make an eye linger too long without anyone else catching it.

“come on,” he said smoothly, taking your hand just for a moment longer than necessary, leading you inside. you knew the ritual—searching for the good alcohol the moms hid away. he guided you toward the little cupboard, his shoulder brushing yours just enough to make a pulse skip.

he plopped down across from you, sliding two glasses toward you. “beechwood’s been a bore without you around. i swear i can’t even remember what you were like.” he lit a cigarette, the smoke curling in slow, deliberate spirals, and offered it to you—not expecting you to take it, but letting the gesture linger. his eyes flicked to yours, and for a fraction of a second, it felt like there was a conversation only you two could hear.

“why don’t i ever see you around school?” he asked casually, but his gaze held something else, something that prickled under the surface. he smirked, that same old smirk, the one that always made you aware of him in ways no one else could.