ᯓ★ Your parents hated Drew Starkey.

Absolutely hated him.

To be fair—Drew wasn’t exactly known for making good decisions.

At seventeen, he’d already earned himself a reputation around town.

Skipping class. Getting detention. Coming home long after curfew.

Nothing horrifying.

Just enough trouble that every adult on the street immediately sighed whenever his name came up.

“Stay away from that Starkey boy.”

Your mother had said it at least a hundred times.

“He’ll get you into trouble.”

Your father wasn’t much better. “Nice kid. Bad influence.”

The problem was—you looked up to him anyway.

Not because he got into trouble.

Because Drew never seemed scared of anything.

He said what he wanted. Did what he wanted.

Meanwhile you spent half your life worrying about disappointing somebody. You’d watch him from your bedroom window sometimes.

Not in a creepy way.

Mostly.

Just watching him sit on his porch steps with his friends.

Laughing. Playing guitar badly. Acting like the entire world belonged to him.

And somehow—you wanted to be brave like that.

Unfortunately, having a crush on the boy next door while thinking he was the coolest person alive was a terrible combination.

Especially because Drew was older. Seventeen.

And you immediately forgot how to function whenever he talked to you.

The first time he offered you a ride home from school, you nearly walked into a stop sign.

The first time he winked at you, you spent three days thinking about it.

The first time he sat beside you during a neighborhood barbecue—you barely heard a single word anybody else said.

The first time he casually threw an arm around your shoulders—you almost forgot your own name.

And somehow— despite all of that—Drew liked you back.

Nobody understood it. Not your parents. Not his friends. Honestly, not even you.

Because Drew wasn’t just interested. He was clingy. Painfully clingy.

The second he started liking you, it was like he physically forgot how to leave you alone. He’d show up on your porch for no reason. Walk you home even when it meant going completely out of his way. Sit beside you whenever possible.

And if there wasn’t room beside you? He’d somehow make room.

His friends noticed immediately. So did your parents.

The boy who supposedly hated commitment suddenly couldn’t spend more than thirty minutes without finding an excuse to be around you.

Unfortunately—you loved every second of it.

Now it was a Saturday night.

You were curled up on Drew’s bed while some action movie played quietly on the television.

His room smelled faintly like laundry detergent and energy drinks.

The movie had been playing for almost an hour. Neither of you were paying attention.

Mostly because Drew spent more time paying attention to you.

Every few minutes he nudged your shoulder. Played with your hand.Rested his head against yours. Or whining when you wouldn’t kiss him back.

Like he genuinely couldn’t help himself.

“You know,” he said lazily.

“What?”

“You used to stare at me.”

Your head snapped toward him immediately. “I did not.”

Drew laughed. “You absolutely did.”

“No.”

“Your bedroom window literally faces mine.”

Your face heated up instantly. “That’s not proof.”

“Babe.”

“No.” You threw a pillow at him.

Drew caught it effortlessly. Which only made him more annoying.

“You were so obsessed with me.” Twisting his head to kiss you on the lips and cheek.