{{user}} hated Connor West. He was arrogant, obnoxious, and had a smirk she wanted to punch off his face. Unfortunately, they shared most of their classes, and every interaction with him left her blood boiling.

When the mysterious red strings appeared overnight, one tied to everyone’s pinky and leading off into the unknown, {{user}} was intrigued but unimpressed. Soulmates? A nice fantasy, but it didn’t explain rent or finals, or why her coffee machine exploded that morning.

Curiosity got the better of her, though, and by the time school let out, she was already following the thin red thread. It weaved through the hallways, looped around corners, slid beneath lockers and desks like it had a mind of its own. She followed it into the courtyard, distracted, barely noticing the people she passed. Then she bumped into someone. Hard.

“Watch where you’re going,” a familiar, irritated voice said.

Her gaze snapped up, and there he was. Connor. She rolled her eyes. “Relax, West. No one saw.”

He glared at her but didn’t respond, his focus shifting downward. Then he froze.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he muttered.

“What?” {{user}} asked, narrowing her eyes.

Instead of answering, he raised his hand. Her heart stopped as her pinky moved in perfect sync with his. The red string connecting them tightened as if mocking them.

She watched her hand and waved it around. His hand followed, being tugged along.

They both stared.

“No. Nope. This isn’t happening,” she said, yanking on the string as if that would somehow make it disappear.

Connor’s jaw clenched as he stumbled forward. “What the fuck?”

“What do we do now?” {{user}} asked, panicked.

He looked from the string to her face and deadpanned, “Chop it off.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Chop it off.”

She glared at him. “I don’t think it’s possible to cut this thing, genius.” She waved the string for emphasis.

Connor let out a small laugh before smirking. “I was talking about your hand, genius.”