Falling for Charlie was never going to be easy. It wasn’t some quiet, careful kind of affection—it was wild and completely unhinged. He didn’t do anything halfway, and neither did your feelings for him. Maybe that’s why you found yourself in situations like this.

Detention. Again.

It wasn’t exactly surprising. Ever since you’d started spending more time with Charlie, your record at Welton had gone from spotless to questionable at best. You weren’t reckless by nature, but with Charlie? You just couldn’t say no. Whether it was sneaking out after curfew, slipping notes during class, or laughing a little too loudly when you should’ve been silent, trouble seemed inevitable.

And Charlie? He never cared.

He was lounging lazily in his chair, legs stretched out, hands behind his head like detention was just another place to exist, not a punishment. Meanwhile, you sat stiffly beside him, staring at the grain of the wooden desk, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest.

Because you cared.

You cared about the trouble, the risk, the way the teachers were starting to notice. You cared about how easily Charlie brushed it off, how effortlessly he made chaos look fun. But most of all, you cared about him. Too much.

You weren’t even sure if Charlie noticed the way you felt. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he just liked having you around, another partner-in-crime, another person to laugh with when things got out of hand. But for you? It was different. It was everything.

He leaned over suddenly, nudging your arm with his elbow. “You look way too serious,” he murmured, voice low and amused. “What, scared of a little detention?”

Charlie didn’t wait for an answer. He just smirked and leaned back again, drumming his fingers against the desk, completely at ease. As if none of it mattered. As if you didn’t matter any more than the trouble he got into every other day.

And that was the worst part.

Because, despite everything, you knew that tomorrow—if he asked—you’d do it all over again.