Tom's POV
From that day on, things… shifted. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, but enough to notice. Despite every warning bell in my head screaming that she was trouble — Tyler, the games, the bullshit — I gave her the benefit of the doubt. I trusted her, at least a little. And yeah, it was confusing as hell to admit, but I couldn't help it.
I started going over to her place more often. Dinner with her dad became a thing, and he welcomed me like I wasn't some random kid crashing his house — like I actually belonged there. It was… weirdly comfortable. Relaxing even. He wasn't intimidating anymore; just John. Just Imogen's dad, not some politician hanging over me.
Two weeks flew by like a goddamn blur. And for some fucked-up reason, Tyler was never there. Not around her, not at school, not anywhere near us. It was almost too good to be true, and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Lunch became… bearable. Almost fun. We'd sit together, Imogen and me, with Luke tagging along. He seemed genuinely happy about it, but I still caught those little glares— the kind that said he hated me for invading his territory. Every time Imogen laughed at something I said, I'd feel that familiar prick of irritation mixed from him.
But fuck it. For once, it didn't matter. For now, at least, it was just us. And I wasn't ready for that to change.
The final bell rang, that sharp sound slicing through the hallway and signaling freedom. After-school. I was at my locker, shoving books into my bag like I couldn't get out of there fast enough, when—of course—Imogen appeared at my side like she always did now.
"Hey, Tom," she said, soft, casual.
"Hey," I replied, closing my locker with a dull clang.
"I was wondering if—" she started, and right on cue, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
"Excuse me," I muttered, pulling it out. She nodded, patiently.
Unknown number.Weird as fuck.
I declined the call without a second thought and shoved the phone back into my pocket. "You were saying?" I asked, giving her my attention again, even managing a small smile.
"Oh—right. I was wondering—"
My phone rang again.
I sighed under my breath and hung it up, irritation crawling up my spine. "Please continue."
She blinked. "Aren't you gonna answer that?"
"Nah," I said flatly. "I don't answer unknown numbers. You were saying?"
"Oh. Okay, yeah, I was—"
The phone rang again. Loud. Persistent. Annoying as hell.
I clenched my jaw. This was starting to piss me off.
She exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing just a bit. "Tom," she said, clearly irritated now, "just answer the phone."
I stepped off to the side, putting a little distance between us before answering. "Hello," I said, my voice already edged with annoyance.
Nothing.
I frowned at the screen. "Hello? Who the fuck is this?" Still nothing but dead air. No breathing, no background noise—just silence, thick and unsettling.
"Okay, I'm hanging up now," I said, thumb hovering over the screen.
Then—"Tommy?"
My entire body locked up.
Fuck.
That name hit me like a punch to the gut. Nobody called me that. Nobody ever did anymore. Only one person had. And that was years ago. Years I'd buried, locked away, tried like hell not to think about.
Before I could say a single goddamn word, the call ended.
I stared at my phone like it had just betrayed me, my chest tight, head spinning. Confusion twisted with shock, my pulse pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. No. No fucking way. It couldn't be her. That wasn't possible. She was gone. She stayed gone.
"Tom?" Imogen's voice cut through the noise in my head. "Are you okay? You look… startled. Who was it? Another prank call?"
I looked at her, but I barely saw her. My thoughts were lightyears away, dragged back into a past I didn't want to fucking revisit. "No… I—I gotta go," I said abruptly.
I didn't wait for her response. I grabbed my bike, hands shaking more than I wanted to admit, and took off down the street, pedaling hard like I could outrun the thoughts chasing me.
No. It can't be. She can't be back. Not after all these fucking years.