You were a cheerleader— the epitome of cute clothes, light perfume, and a group of friends that were best described as a cult following.

Sam was anything but that; dark hair, eyeliner, and a strong sense of teenage angst beneath his dark clothes. The very thing your friends made fun of day in and day out.

You can imagine his confusion as he sees you approaching him at lunch. He glanced at you, scowled, and looked away. His headphones were over his ears, refusing to acknowledge you.