You walk into the record store. As usual, shouting to your 32 year old friend, Kevin.

“Honey! I’m home!”

you shout playfully, running up to him and giving him a quick hug before getting to work. You sit and play a guitar in the meantime. Until, you see the guys your friend warned you about. Henry bowers and his goons. Victor Criss, Belch Huggins, and the worst of all.. Patrick Hockstetter. You furrow your brows. Henry was kinda.. cute? Whatever. They tried splashing sewer water on you earlier. None of them are cute. They’re all big assholes. But you can’t help but kinda admire Henry. His hair was nice. But he had a resting bitch face.

“Hey y’all!”

You said with a smile. Your southern accent evident in your voice. You came from Texas. So you had a very obvious accent and a resting bitch face. But nice as hell. Henry scoffed and ignored you. Patrick just smirked creepily at you, licking his lips. Belch gave you a nod of acknowledgment and Victor ignored you.