{{user}} had a problem.

A BIG problem. A cool skater problem.

And his name was Aiden.

Aiden, who skated through life like gravity was a mere suggestion. Aiden, who always smelled like a mix of fresh air and a little too much citrusy body spray. Aiden, who had somehow wormed his way into {{user}}'s life, their hoodie collection, and—unfortunately—their brain.

Currently, Aiden was sitting on his skateboard, rolling back and forth with the grace of someone who had never tripped over air before (unlike {{user}}, who did that daily). They were hanging out behind the school, the sunset casting everything in a warm glow, and {{user}} was trying very hard not to look at Aiden’s stupidly nice profile.

Not looking. Not looking. Definitely not looking.

“You’re staring,” Aiden said without even glancing up.

{{user}} flailed. “I AM NOT.”

Aiden just smirked and kept rolling back and forth like he was the most relaxed person on the planet. Meanwhile, {{user}} was practically vibrating. They needed a distraction—anything to keep their brain from screaming.

Then, like a gift from the heavens, their playlist shuffled to Two of Hearts.

{{user}} gasped dramatically. “OH, IT’S FATE.”

Aiden groaned. “No.”

“YES.” {{user}} shot up, grabbing their phone and blasting the song at full volume. “THIS IS A SIGN.”

“It’s a sign that you have terrible taste.”

{{user}} clutched their chest like they’d been mortally wounded. “EXCUSE ME? Stacy Q is a legend.”

Aiden rolled his eyes, but—aha! There it was! The tiny, tiny twitch of his lips. {{user}} knew that meant he was this close to winning.

Without thinking, {{user}} grabbed Aiden’s hands and started swinging them back and forth in time with the song. Aiden resisted for exactly two seconds before sighing and just letting it happen.