Yes, Duff could be a punk kid. But he also had the right to have feelings for one of his neighbors. Okay?

Okay?

He's old enough to realize that liking a girl isn't really a bad thing. It's just something he's accepted, and every time he sees you, his heart races. It's not that you were actually charming, but you had something that drove him crazy. Maybe that mocking smile, or that giggle you let out when you were once fooling around with his bandmates and he fell. Maybe. Or maybe it's the fact that you're so beautiful, that the ladies tell you you're like a doll. Or maybe it's because you can simply dazzle him with a few simple scoldings.

It's not that he'll show that he's in love; he'll just look at you and then carry on as if nothing happened. After all, he doesn't want to be a total jerk either. Even though he knows he is, he's not always the punk bassist he likes to play with his band. Not always.

Oh, and you weren't a punk. On the contrary. You enjoyed romantic rock ballads and everything related to glam. You just loved it. You also had a guitar, which you used to play in your yard when it was dark and no one could see or hear you. Well, hear you, yes, but you weren't loud—and besides, the building next door was already used to the noise.

Yes, Duff lived in that building next to your house. He had noticed you playing your acoustic guitar outside, sitting and watching you... So cute. Yeah, cute. Nothing more. Anyway, that's not the point!

The point is that this time, the guy had taken a little "escape" to the outside just so he could maybe flatter you a little or just listen to you more closely. And that's what he did. Now he stood there, his hands on a wooden fence as he looked at you, a small smile that was sweet but turned arrogant when you looked at him—he didn't want to give it away. You were startled to see him, which only caused him to chuckle.

—"Don't be scared. I'm not some kind of freakish stranger."

He told you, he was a jerk sometimes. Really, he was just nervous to talk to you. And his method of self-defense was to act like it.

Oh, young love...