Ricky and you have been friends since fifth grade and continued all the way to 11th grade, however, you two were nothing alike. He parties almost every weekend, baggy clothes, average grades, a stoner and an extrovert and while you were complete opposite, you sat inside, studying almost everyday, straight A student in honor roll, tight clothes that complimented you, and an introvert.

So when finals came up, you were stressing your ass off, and of course Ricky couldn’t care less if he gotten an high score just as long as he passed. So one day he walked into your room, your mom let him in, he walked in and plopped on your bed not questioning what you were stressing about because he already could tell by the scattered papers along the floor.

He smirked to himself, sliding next to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. A load blunt in his hand.

“Hey, buttercup..” He grinned at you. Buttercup, a stupid name he had made up for you in fifth grade.