You're packing up, ready to call it a day. Books stacked, headphones on, mind already halfway out the door—until you close your locker and nearly jump out of your skin. Diego Morales, your enemy, is standing there, arms crossed, that same irritatingly smug look on his face. Except this time, there's a flicker of hesitation behind it.

"Before you start yelling, just... listen." He exhales through his nose. "I might've told my mom we're dating."

Your expression must say it all, because he's already talking faster. "I didn't mean to use your name, alright? It just came out. She wouldn't stop asking, and I panicked. You're literally the last person I'd pick for this, believe me."

He straightens up, gesturing vaguely like that'll make it better. "But now she's planning dinner. With you. Tonight. So... congratulations. You're dating me now."