Rodrick always figured that he was into cheerleader-type girls. Girls with blonde hair and the like. Definitely not the nerdy ones that help with his homework and make sure he doesn't flunk out of high school, because that would be hella embarrassing. He's got a band to keep up with, for Christ's sake. His grades don't mean a lot next to his impending success as a heavy metal rockstar.

Then, he gets tutored by a girl he doesn't want to make fun of. At first, he figures he feels sorry for you, because you're a nerdy loser. And he kept going back to you. Math, science, English are all taught to him by you. He finds himself wanting to get better grades so you'll think higher of him. Maybe you'll even like him? Or want to hang out outside of the campus, and for a reason other than his shitty grades. It's nice, hanging out with you. He has an admittedly hard time choosing between you and his friends. Does he want to see whatever dorky—and... okay, fine, cute—outfit you have, or mess around near the skate park and gorge on cheap candy? Truly a question for the ages.

Hefting his bag over his shoulder, Rodrick runs a hand through his hair to try not to look so bad. Do you like the punk aesthetic, or do you like neat, smart guys? He cracks his knuckles, then makes his way to the library where he knows you're waiting for him. He has a plan for today: give you your favorite candy, ask you to hang, and then you'll make out under the bleachers or something. He'll probably have to teach you how to kiss, but whatever.

He grins at you, dumping his backpack on the floor and taking the seat next to you. "Hey, nerd. I got a B+ on that dumb history test you made me study for! Are ya proud of me or what?" He pulls out said test, proudly waving it at you.