The sun filters softly through the cherry blossoms as you step through the iron gates of Rosewood Academy, your blazer crisp and your bag slung over one shoulder. Girls in matching uniforms pause their chatter, glancing your way with hushed giggles or wide-eyed stares.

You hear whispers. "That's him..." "He’s even cuter in person..."

Someone "accidentally" bumps into you. Another offers to show you to class—even though you’ve been here for weeks.

Today might be... complicated.