High school changes everything

High school was supposed to be a fresh start.

That's what everyone said.

A time to grow out of childhood, make new friends, find your place in the world.

But for Sophia Thomas, high school only made one thing painfully clear:

She wasn't growing out of Daniel Harper.

If anything, she was falling deeper.

The first day of sophomore year felt like walking into a war zone — lockers slamming, students shouting across hallways, backpacks thudding against shoulders like they were weapons.

And yet, somehow, all she could think about was Daniel.

Not because he was here — he wasn't. He was still away at college.

But because everything reminded her of him.

The way people laughed too loud.

The way boys walked around like they owned the place.

Even the smell of the hallway — chalk dust and old gym socks — brought back memories of him lounging in her house after a long day, teasing Nathan, or helping her study.

It had been months since he'd left, but she hadn't stopped thinking about him.

She told herself it was just nostalgia.

But deep down, she knew better.

Back at home, things had changed too.

Nathan had started dating more seriously — which meant less time spent lounging around the house.

Her parents were busier than ever.

And Sophia?

She was alone more often than not.

Which meant more time to think.

More time to miss him.

More time to pretend she didn't.

One evening, she found herself sitting on the porch again — just like she used to when he was around — watching the sunset bleed across the sky.

Lena dropped down beside her, stretching out on the steps.

"You're doing the thing again," Lena said, nudging her shoulder.

"What thing?"

"The staring-into-space-like-you're-being-dramatic thing."

Sophia sighed. "I'm not being dramatic."

"Uh-huh." Lena raised an eyebrow. "Then why do you look like someone stole your favorite ice cream flavor and your puppy in the same day?"

Sophia gave her a flat look. "You're exaggerating."

"Am I?" Lena rolled over onto her side, studying her friend. "Because every time his name comes up, you get this weird look on your face. Like you're holding something back."

Sophia looked away. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do." Lena sat up. "You still love him, don't you?"

Sophia swallowed hard.

She could've lied.

She could've said no.

But instead, she whispered, "I never stopped."

There. She'd said it.

Out loud.

And now, there was no taking it back.

At first, Lena didn't say anything.

Then she leaned her head on Sophia's shoulder.

"I think you should tell him," Lena said softly.

Sophia shook her head instantly. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't see me like that."

"How do you know?"

"He treats me like I'm still twelve," Sophia muttered. "He ruffles my hair and calls me Soph like it's normal."

Lena frowned. "Maybe he doesn't realize how much you've changed."

Sophia bit her lip. "Or maybe he just doesn't care."

"No," Lena said firmly. "That's not true. He cares. He just doesn't see it yet."

Sophia exhaled slowly. "What if he does? What if he sees it — and decides he doesn't want it?"

Lena studied her carefully. "Then maybe it's time to stop waiting for him to catch up… and start living your life."

Sophia wanted to believe that.

She really did.

But the truth was, Daniel wasn't just some boy she liked.

He was the boy who had shaped her idea of love.

The boy who made her feel seen, even if it was only in passing.

The boy who had stayed close to her family — not because he had to, but because he chose to.

How did you walk away from someone like that?

How did you let go of the person who made your heart beat louder?

Later that week, Daniel came home for a short visit — just a weekend trip before midterms.

When he walked through the door, Sophia froze.

He looked different.

Taller, somehow.

Broader.

His smile was the same, though.

Warm. Easy. Familiar.

"Hey, Soph," he said, dropping his bag by the couch. "You grown any taller?"

She rolled her eyes. "Still hiding behind jokes, I see."

He grinned. "Some things never change."

But she noticed something else.

He wasn't staying in his usual room this time.

Instead, he set his stuff in the guest bedroom — farther from hers.

Farther from Nathan's.

It was subtle.

Almost unnoticeable.

But to Sophia?

It felt like a shift.

Like he was trying to create distance.

Or maybe, finally, he needed to.

That night, she found herself in the kitchen making pancakes — his favorite.

Nathan wandered in, raising an eyebrow. "You're making breakfast for him again?"

She shrugged. "So?"

"It's sweet," Nathan admitted. "But you don't have to impress him, you know."

She stiffened. "I'm not trying to impress him."

"Then why do you always do this?" Nathan asked, leaning against the counter. "Why do you always wait for him to come home like it means something?"

Sophia's hands trembled slightly as she flipped the last pancake.

She forced a smile. "I guess I just like having him around."

Nathan nodded slowly. "Yeah. Me too."

And just like that, he walked away.

Left her standing there, heart pounding, wondering how close he had come to figuring it out.

That afternoon, Daniel joined them outside — stretched out on the grass, sunglasses on, music playing softly from his phone.

Sophia sat nearby, flipping through a book.

She tried not to stare.

She failed.

He caught her looking — and for once, he didn't tease her.

He just smiled.

Softly.

Like he saw her.

Really saw her.

For the briefest moment, hope flickered in her chest.

Then he said, "You okay?"

She blinked. "Huh?"

"You've been quiet all day."

She swallowed hard. "I'm fine."

He tilted his head. "You sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

He studied her for a second longer — then turned back to Nathan, laughing at something he said.

And Sophia?

She stared at the sky, feeling like she was standing at the edge of something big.

Something scary.

Something real.

Inside, she realized something had shifted.

She wasn't just loving him quietly anymore.

She was aching for him.

And maybe, just maybe…

It was time to stop pretending she could live with that.