Always you

CHAPTER 2 : THE BOY WHO NEVER LEFT

(Daxon’s POV)

I wasn’t expecting her.

One second I’m laughing at something Ryder said — probably something dumb, like always — and the next, the air just… changes.

It’s weird. The courtyard is full of people, the same noise, the same chaos, but it’s like everything slows down for a second. My eyes lift, and there she is.

Tamsyn Dane.

The last person I ever thought I’d see walking through Ridgeview’s gates again.

Her hair’s a little shorter, her shoulders a little straighter. She’s still got that quiet energy — the kind that makes people turn and look without knowing why. And yeah, my chest does that annoying thing where it tightens, but I ignore it.

Ryder elbows me. “Dude, is that—?”

“Yeah,” I cut in before he could finish.

Nolan whistles low. “Damn. She came back?”

I shrug, forcing a small smirk. “Guess ghosts don’t stay gone forever.”

They laugh, and I laugh with them, but it feels hollow. I look away, pretending I’m not still watching her. But she’s right there — with Ashley — moving through the crowd like the world hasn’t been holding its breath for a year waiting for her to return.

And then it happens.

She looks at me.

Just for a second.

Her eyes catch mine — calm, unreadable — and every memory I tried to bury claws its way back up. Late-night talks. That look she gave me when she said she trusted me. The way I broke it anyway.

I blink first. She turns away.

Good.

That’s good.

“Yo, Earth to Daxon,” Kai says, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at me. “You spacing out or something?”

“Just thinking,” I say, stretching my arms behind my head like I couldn’t care less.

Ryder grins. “About her?”

I give him a look. “About lunch, actually.”

They laugh again, and the moment passes. Or at least it looks like it does.

But inside, something’s off. I can feel it.

The rest of the day’s a blur — classes, jokes, Lexi trying too hard to get my attention — all the usual noise. I go through the motions like I always do. Everyone thinks I’m the same guy I was last year. Maybe I am. Maybe I just got better at pretending.

It’s not until that night, when the house is quiet, that it hits me.

I’m lying on my bed, headphones in, staring at the ceiling. The music’s loud enough to drown out the world, but not enough to silence my thoughts.

She’s back.

After all this time. After the way things ended. After I told myself she’d moved on.

I roll onto my side, trying to shake it off, but the image of her standing in the courtyard — sunlight in her hair, eyes a mix of strength and sadness — won’t leave my head.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “Get over it, Asher,” I mutter. “It’s just Tamsyn.”

But the lie doesn’t stick.

Because deep down, I know the truth.

It was never just Tamsyn.