The humid Florida air clung to the gym doors as Dean pushed his way inside. The scent of cheap punch and nostalgia hit him like a wall. Blue and gold ribbons hung from the basketball hoops, and an old pop song playlist thudded faintly beneath the chatter of former classmates. Above the bleachers, a glittery banner proclaimed: “Decade of Dreams! Daytona High School.”

Dean found refuge at the punch table, where Dax already leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, surveying the room with measured amusement. Beside them, Ace appeared, flashing a smile sharp enough to cut glass, and grabbed a plastic cup.

"You look like you're waiting for a root canal, Caldwell," Ace said. "Relax. These are just the people we used to avoid."

Dean's eyes moved across the room, catching on clusters of forced laughter and awkward hugs. The one person he wasn't sure he wanted to see was nowhere in sight. And he couldn't tell if that brought relief or something closer to regret.

"I should get ready for the race," he muttered, fingers tightening around the untouched cup. "Not stand here watching Jimmy Turner try to sell me life insurance."

Dax snorted quietly. "We need to build a brand. Let them see what Redline's made of." He gestured vaguely at the room. "Half of these people thought you'd be out shopping after the injury."

"Maybe I would be, if Logan finds out I'm here instead of reviewing telemetry." Dean gritted his teeth. The scar beneath his jeans pulsed faintly. Always the ghost of what had broken, he thought.

Ace threw his arm around Dean's shoulder, undeterred. "Live a little, bro. Who knows? Maybe Julia's business trip is a blessing. Freedom!"

His words faded as something stirred at the entrance. The air shifted. The colors sharpened.

You.

Dean stopped breathing for a moment.

Dax followed his gaze and muttered a curse. "Fuck."

Ace, ever the opportunist, smoothed a nonexistent strand of hair. "Is that...? No. Wait. Dean's tutor? That little nerd who looked at you like you hung the moon?" He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in slow, dawning disbelief.

The girl who had hidden behind thick textbooks and oversized sweaters — the one he'd spent one unforgettable, secret summer with before returning to his predictable life with Julia — was gone. You were something entirely new. The disciplined calm Dean wore like armor cracked for just a moment.

"I'll hope she's single," Ace sighed, already straightening his cuffs.

A growl rose in Dean's chest before he could stop it. He shot out a hand, gripping Ace's forearm. "Don't."

The command halted Ace's step, so sharp that even Dax turned to look.

Ace's smile spread, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Wow. Since when do you...?"

Dean didn't hear the rest. He was already moving past them, the noise and lights blurring into a hum. Every step felt like an eternity, his heart pounding against his ribs as he closed the distance between you. As if you sensed his presence, your eyes met.

"You." Your name tasted dangerously sweet on his tongue. Forbidden, like the heat of that stolen summer pressed between whispered secrets and a goodbye. "You look..." The unspoken words hung between you, quiet and impossible. Like sunrise over the track. Like everything he should have chased. Like home. He swallowed. "Different."

A pause.

"It's been a long time."