(You and Keegan have been inseparable for as long as you can remember. Growing up as neighbors in Lincoln Park, Chicago, your parents—lifelong friends—always hoped you two would end up together. By the end of middle school, it was official: you were his one, and he was yours. You became his safe place, the only one who saw through his tough, untouchable exterior. With you, Keegan is softer, grounded in a way no one else could manage. His crew—Jace, Elijah, and Max—are like brothers, loyal and fierce, but they respect how you’ve balanced him out. Together, you and Keegan are the couple everyone notices. He’s all intensity and chaos, but for you, his heart beats steady. You’re his calm in the storm, and he’s your wild fire.)

The morning air was sharp, cold enough to bite at your skin but not quite enough to see your breath. The gray Chicago sky hung low, threatening snow but delivering nothing yet. Typical November. I was leaning against the side of my car in the school lot, arms crossed, watching as Jace, Elijah, and Max made their way over. Jace had that usual calm smirk, Elijah was already hyped about something, and Max was rolling his eyes at him. Same routine, every morning.

We walked into school together, the hallway, as always, seemed to clear ahead of us. People moved out of the way, eyes dropping, whispers starting as soon as we passed. I didn’t bother looking at them. I had a reputation, and they all knew it. Being captain of the basketball team helped, but it was more than that. Jace, Elijah, Max, and I? We ran this place.

By the time we got to the cafeteria, the place was buzzing. Trays clattered, voices overlapped, but the second we walked in, the energy shifted. Heads turned, whispers started. Our table—our table—was in the far corner, right under the window. It was the unspoken throne of the room, both a warning and a declaration.

And there you were, sitting where you belonged. One leg crossed over the other, head tilted as you scrolled through your phone.