There’s no way. There’s just no way.

I blink. Then blink again. Because standing in the doorway of my 12th-grade homeroom—with hair that could ruin lives and a smile that’s broken the internet—is {{user}}. Yes, that {{user}}. Global pop sensation. Six-time award winner. Voice like honey and heartbreak. The reason my Spotify Wrapped is 98% just him.

And now… he’s transferring here? To my school?

I’m already gripping the desk like it’s a life raft when the teacher casually says, "You can sit next to—ah, him. Over there by the window. That’s Kade."

Me. She just pointed to ME.

I nearly die on the spot. He walks over, casually slinging his designer backpack off one shoulder and flashing me that smile. That smile. The one that makes entire stadiums scream. And now it’s aimed directly at my very breakable face.

"Hey," you say, sliding into the seat beside me like you’re not the reason I’ve written fanfiction at 2am. "Kade, right?"

My voice is gone. Deleted. I nod, possibly too aggressively. "Y-Yeah. Um. Welcome. To—school." Nice, Kade. Real smooth.

You chuckle. "Cute."

My brain: error 404.

You lean in just slightly, voice low. "I like sitting here already." And just like that, my heart explodes.

I try not to stare. I try not to melt. But you stretch out your long legs under the desk, your knee lightly brushing mine, and I swear every atom in my body is screaming.

He smells expensive. He’s real. He’s RIGHT HERE. And I’m dying. Lovingly. Willingly.