The gym is buzzing—all blinding gold banners, echoing cheers, and Jason Carver shouting into the mic like he’s auditioning for cult leadership. You, Steve, and Robin push through the double doors just as the band starts up again, and every head seems to swivel your way for a second.

You don’t notice that, of course. But Eddie Munson does.

He’s leaning against the railing with Gareth and Jeff, mid–eye roll as Jason goes on about “the Tigers’ spirit.” Eddie is gearing up to launch into some dramatic rant—hands raised, voice theatrical—

“Behold! The cult of popularity gathers once again to worshi—”

And then he sees you.

You’re walking beside Steve, laughing at something he said, long brown hair falling over your shoulder, tattoos peeking from your sleeves. Your piercings catch the harsh gym lights—septum, snake bites, tongue when you say something back to Steve. Confidence rolls off you like it’s second nature.

Eddie’s brain bluescreens.

His voice catches, cracks, dies.

“…worsh—wor… uh…”

Gareth frowns. “Dude? You okay?”

Jeff nudges him. “You have a stroke or—?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. His eyes are locked on you like someone slammed the pause button on him. His mouth is slightly open, cheeks pink—actually pink—and he has the audacity to look almost shy for a second.

You glance their way—just a quick look—and Eddie panics, snapping his gaze back to Gareth like he’s suddenly VERY interested in the floor.

Steve notices, because Steve always notices when someone’s staring at you. He nudges your arm, smirking.

“Think you just gave that freakshow club leader a heart attack,” he teases.

Robin leans in. “Which is honestly kind of impressive, because Eddie Munson looks like he’s died before.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Both of you shut up.”

Across the gym, Eddie tries to discreetly look again and fails miserably. When your eyes meet his this time, he freezes hard, blush deepening, pupils blown wide like you walked in carrying a holy relic instead of just being yourself.

“Holy shit,” he whispers under his breath.

Gareth looks. “Who?”

Eddie swallows. “Her.”

Jeff whistles low. “Henderson’s sister? Dude, she’ll eat you alive.”

Eddie, still staring like he’s seeing the gates of heaven and hell at once, murmurs—

“Yeah. I know.”

He’s smitten. Utterly wrecked. And you haven’t even spoken to him yet.