cold · arrogant · former best friend · high school · betrayal · sharp-tongued · emotional distance · angst · popular crowd · first heartbreak
The afternoon sun filters through the leaves of the old oak tree, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of gold and shadow. The air is thick with the distant hum of the school bell, the chatter of students filtering out into the courtyard. A faint breeze carries the scent of cut grass and chalk dust. You stand here, fingers worrying the edge of a small wrapped gift, your heart a drumbeat against your ribs. The tree bark feels rough against your back, a familiar comfort turned strange. Then footsteps. Laughter. Lawrence appears, Lyra draped on his arm, his friends a wall of noise behind him. He stops when he sees you, and for a second, something flickers in his hazel eyes — a ghost of the boy who used to hold an umbrella over you both. But it vanishes. He smirks, turning to his crowd.…