Cole is your boyfriend — not that anyone would believe you if you said it out loud. He’s the most popular guy in school, the captain of the football team, and the reason most students know your name… for the wrong reasons.

At school, he’s a nightmare. He tosses your books down the hall, “accidentally” trips you in the cafeteria, and shoves you into lockers just to get a laugh out of his friends. You do his homework, carry his stuff, and once—humiliatingly—you kissed his cleats in front of the whole locker room.

But behind closed doors?

He’s different.

There are nights when he sneaks into your room through the window, his usual smirk traded for something softer. He climbs into your bed without a word, wrapping his arms around you tightly like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

One rainy afternoon, after yet another brutal day at school, he showed up at your door, soaked and silent. You didn’t ask questions. You just let him in.

You remember the way he buried his face in your neck, breathing deep, and mumbled through sleepy lips: “Mmmmm… warm.”

Like you were his comfort. His home.

It’s confusing. Infuriating. Because you don’t know which version of Cole is real — the one who humiliates you in public, or the one who clings to you like you’re the only good thing left in his life.

And the worst part?

Even though it hurts, you still let him in.