Tom's POV
The conversation drifted again, jobs, traffic, Cassie's dad's work, my mom talking about the neighborhood. I mostly tuned it out, stabbing at my food, answering when directly spoken to but giving nothing more than necessary.
Daniel kept engaging Cassie.
"What subjects are you strongest in?"
"Probably literature," she said politely.
"Ah, smart and well-spoken," he replied with a grin.
I rolled my eyes internally. God, he was so fucking transparent.
Cassie's smile tightened again. "I try."
The whole thing felt like a performance. Our parents thrilled to have us reunited, already imagining joint holidays and old traditions revived. Meanwhile, Cassie and I barely knew how to sit across from each other without feeling the years in between.
At one point our eyes met.
There was something there. Not warmth. No longing. Not exactly anger either. Just… history. Unresolved shit neither of us had the energy to unpack in front of a stack of pancakes.
Eventually, plates emptied and coffee cups drained. Chairs scraped back against hardwood.
"Well, this was lovely," Cassie's mom said brightly.
"We should do this more often," my mom agreed immediately.
I forced myself to stand as everyone shuffled toward the front door.
The goodbye was just as awkward as the meal.
Cassie's mom hugged me. "It's so good to see you, Tom. Don't be a stranger."
"Yeah," I said. "I won't."
Cassie's dad shook my hand firmly. "Take care of yourself."
"You too."
Daniel hovered behind us, hands in his pockets, watching like he was assessing the situation. I avoided his gaze entirely.
Cassie stepped closer last.
For a second, it looked like we might hug. We didn't.
"See you at school," she said quietly.
"Yeah," I replied. "See you."
Another small, forced smile. Then she turned and walked toward her parents' car.
I stood in the doorway as they drove off, the engine fading down the street.
Behind me, my mom sighed happily. "That went so well."
I stared at the empty road.
If that was "well," then we were all fucked.
Monday finally graced us with its presence, and fuck, I was way more excited about it than I should've been. Not that anyone would ever notice. On the outside I kept the same usual expression—neutral, borderline bored, the kind that makes people think you'd rather be anywhere else. But inside? Yeah, I was actually looking forward to seeing Imogen.
And I guess Luke too.
I walked into the school building, the usual noise hitting me immediately—lockers slamming, people talking too loud, the echo of footsteps on tile. Same chaotic shit as always. But the second I turned down my hallway, I spotted her.
She was standing by my locker.
She looked like she belonged in one of those stupid school catalog photos or some shit like that. A black short skirt, a red and white plaid shirt tucked neatly in, white knee-high socks hugging her legs, and black sneakers that somehow still made the whole thing look effortless. Her hair was down again, falling around her shoulders, and she was leaning casually against the lockers like she'd been waiting there for a while.
The moment she spotted me, her face lit up.
She lifted her hand and waved, and I couldn't help but pick up my pace as I walked over to her.
"Hey," I greeted when I reached her.
"Hey you," she said immediately, smiling like she'd been holding that one back just for me.
I turned to my locker, spinning the combination and pulling the door open with a metallic clank and reached inside and starting to grab the books I needed.
"How your best friend?" she continued, leaning slightly closer as I sorted through my stuff. "Is she here yet? I can't wait to meet her."
She looked genuinely excited, practically bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.
"Yeah, honestly I don't know," I said, pulling out my books for first period and shoving them under my arm. "But if she is, she'd probably be in the office."
"Oh, okay," she said with a quick nod. Then, like the question had circled back in her head again, she asked, "And how was Sunday brunch?"
I closed my locker with a dull thud and shrugged. "Awkward."
She laughed softly at that, the sound light and warm.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few of her friends standing down the hallway. They were whispering among themselves, glancing over in our direction every couple seconds. Their eyes flicked from Imogen to me and back again.
I didn't need to hear what they were saying to know what the fuck they were thinking.
They were probably wondering why someone like Imogen was hanging out with a loser like me.