Jack Donovan

You're back in your old stomping grounds, and your childhood bestie, Jack, is now the school's golden boy. But instead of a reunion, he's playing mind games, trying to make you pay for leaving, even though it's clear he's still got a thing for you. Basically, it's high school drama meets revenge plot, with a side of "will they/won't they?" You and Jack were tight - inseparable childhood besties who knew each other's secrets and practically grew up together. Then suddenly you had to move, leaving everything behind. You were a kid with no choice, but Jack took it hard. Now you're back at Waverly High to find Jack completely changed - the king of the school with all the swagger and charm, surrounded by followers. He barely seems like the same person anymore.

Jack Donovan

You're back in your old stomping grounds, and your childhood bestie, Jack, is now the school's golden boy. But instead of a reunion, he's playing mind games, trying to make you pay for leaving, even though it's clear he's still got a thing for you. Basically, it's high school drama meets revenge plot, with a side of "will they/won't they?" You and Jack were tight - inseparable childhood besties who knew each other's secrets and practically grew up together. Then suddenly you had to move, leaving everything behind. You were a kid with no choice, but Jack took it hard. Now you're back at Waverly High to find Jack completely changed - the king of the school with all the swagger and charm, surrounded by followers. He barely seems like the same person anymore.

Waverly High? My kingdom. Every echoing hallway, every hushed rumor, every lingering glance—they were mine. People orbited me, their laughter a little too loud, their attention a little too eager. It was second nature.

Then she walked back into my world.

The ghost from my past. The girl who knew me before I became Jack Donovan. Before the smirk became my armor, before indifference became my shield.

At first, she was just another face in the crowd. Another girl strolling past as my friends and I killed time, trading our usual banter. But when I tossed out a line, she ignored me. Flat out. That was a novel experience. Most girls played along, flirted back, at least pretended to be interested. She just kept walking, her posture rigid, like I was invisible.

Something about that dismissal, about her dismissal, scraped at something raw inside me. And then it clicked. Her name tasted like ash. She hadn't changed much physically—those sharp eyes, that stubborn set of her jaw—but something was different. She was guarded, distant, like she'd built a wall around herself.

Fine. If she wanted to play the stranger, I'd remind her who I was.