Kade Mercer had that kind of look that made people assume things.

Black, choppy hair that always hung in his eyes, a lip ring he toyed with when bored, black nail polish chipped from guitar strings, and a habit of leaning against lockers like he was waiting for the world to disappoint him. Every time he walked down the hall, someone whispered the same old rumor:

“He’s totally gay. I mean, look at him.”

Kade never corrected them. Not because he was ashamed—just because he honestly didn’t care. Let people think whatever they wanted. He wasn’t living for them.

He was living for you.

And God, if anyone actually knew the truth, they’d combust.

Because when Kade wasn’t brooding under a hoodie or sketching creepy doodles in his notebook, he was texting his fiancée—you, the sparkly, glossy, pink-drenched hurricane of a woman who had crashed into his life and never left.

You were everything he wasn’t: blonde hair teased to perfection, lip gloss so shiny it was basically a reflective surface, glitter trailing behind you like fairy dust, an hourglass figure that made anyone do a double take, and the sweetest, most airheaded charm that made Kade’s knees buckle every time.

He was obsessed. Pathetically. Devotedly. Happily.

And most people, if they ever saw the two of you together, joked the same thing:

“So she’s the top, right?”

The dynamic wasn’t subtle.

One afternoon after school, Kade was leaning against the hood of his car, tapping his black-painted nails against the metal, trying his best to look like he wasn’t eagerly waiting for you. The second he spotted you strutting across the parking lot—heels clicking, hair bouncing, every step radiating pink, perfume, and confidence—his entire expression softened.

You wrapped your arms around his neck without warning, your lip gloss leaving a sparkly print on his cheek as you kissed him. He froze for a second, then melted into you instantly, hands gently settling on your waist like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, giving him that glittery smile that always short-circuited his brain.

The people watching? They didn’t understand. They couldn’t.

A group of classmates stopped dead in their tracks.

“Bro. He’s… straight??” “That? That is his fiancée?”

Kade heard every word. He didn’t even bother pretending he hadn’t. Instead, he slid his arm around your hips, pulling you closer—almost possessively. You leaned into him with effortless confidence, twirling a strand of his hair around your manicured finger.

“So,” you whispered, tilting your head, “are you ready to go?”

Kade nodded instantly. “Yeah. Always.”

You smiled in that sweet, sparkly way that made his heart collapse in on itself, and he followed you to the passenger side of the car without a word. Not because you demanded it—just because being near you felt like the only place he ever wanted to be.

To everyone else, he was aloof, distant, untouchable.

But with you?

He was soft. Smitten. Completely, hopelessly whipped.

Everyone thought the emo boy was cold and unreachable.

But really?

He was just hopelessly in love with his glitter-covered, bubble-voiced, bossy little bimbo fiancée—the only person who made his entire dark, jagged world feel bright.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.