Tom's POV
"What are you doing here?" I asked flatly, my voice coming out colder than I felt.
She hesitated for half a second, like she already knew this wasn't going the way she'd planned. "Your mom said I could wait for you here," she replied, folding her hands together in front of her like that somehow made this okay.
"That's not what I asked," I said, my jaw tightening. "And you know it."
She flinched. Just a little. Then she looked at me the way she used to—soft eyes, careful voice, like she was stepping around broken glass. "Tommy..."
"No." The word came out sharp. Immediate. Final. "Don't call me that." I swallowed, forcing my voice steady. "It's Tom."
She flinched and for a second, I almost felt bad. Almost.
"I needed to see you," she said, voice shaking now. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."
That did it.
A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "Well, you thought wrong." I stared at her, really stared this time. "You shouldn't have came. Go back."
Her face fell, color draining like I'd pulled the plug on her. She opened her mouth again, probably to say sorry or explain or dig up some bullshit from the past—but I was done. I turned around before she could get another fucking word out and headed for the stairs.
I barely made it up two steps before my mom's voice cut through the air like a knife.
"Isn't this just wonderful?" she said brightly, stepping into my path. Of course. Perfect timing. "Cassandra's family is back in town. I invited them for Sunday brunch!"
I stopped dead. Sunday brunch. With her.
I looked at my mom, then back toward the living room where Cassie stood frozen, then back at my mom again. My chest felt tight, like someone had shoved their fist right through it and decided to keep it there.
"Yeah," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's fucking amazing."
She didn't hear the sarcasm—or chose not to. She was beaming like this was some kind of reunion out of a fairytale.
I didn't give her another word. I just turned and walked up the stairs, every step heavier than the last. When I reached my room, I shoved the door open, stepped inside, and slammed it shut behind me, the sound echoed through the house.
I leaned back against the door, breathing hard, my hands shaking just enough to piss me off.
Cassie was back.
And just like that, everything I'd buried clawed its way back to the surface.
Several minutes later, there was a knock at my door. Soft. Careful. Like she was afraid the wood might bite back.
"Tommy," her voice came through, quiet and hesitant, and fuck, just hearing it made something ugly twist in my chest. "Tommy, please let me in."
I stayed silent, staring at the wall.
"Tommy, please," she tried again, her voice cracking just enough to piss me off. "You're my best friend."
I scoffed, a short, bitter sound that tasted like old wounds. "Yeah," I muttered loud enough for her to hear, "well that makes one of us."
Silence followed. Thick. Heavy. The kind that presses in on your ears.
Cassandra was my best friend. Had been for as long as I could remember. Longer than anyone else in my life, if I was being brutally fucking honest. We were inseparable back then, me and her against the world. Two weird kids glued together by the same shit luck.
Middle school was hell. We were the outcasts. The nerds. The ones people pointed at and laughed about. She had her thick glasses and oversized sweaters, I had my awkward silence and permanent frown. We got bullied together, mocked together, shoved around together. And somehow, it didn't feel as bad because at least we weren't alone.
We hung out every damn day. After school, weekends, whenever we could. She'd come over, or I'd go to her place. We'd sit on her bedroom floor doing homework, watching dumb movies, talking about everything and nothing. We even had sleepovers—yeah, with a girl. People thought it was weird. We didn't give a shit. We were us. That was enough.
She was the one person who actually saw me. Who didn't think I was broken or strange or too quiet. And I was hers. Her safe place. Her constant.
And then she fucking left.
Right before high school. Just—gone.