He’d been waiting all week to see you — counting down every miserable minute trapped at Welton. The dorm smelled faintly of ink and tobacco; half the boys were pretending to study while the other half were listening to Neil rant about rehearsal.

“Dalton,” Knox said from his bunk, flipping a pencil between his fingers. “You sure she’s coming this weekend? Honestly, she’s way too good for you.”

Neil looked up from his script, smirking. “She probably realized she can do better than a guy who nearly got expelled again.”

“Maybe she likes lost causes,” Todd murmured, earning a laugh from the others.

Charlie only leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth curling. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, gentlemen. She’ll show. She always does.” He slipped the half-written note into his pocket, your name underlined twice, and grabbed his jacket. “See you Monday — if I’m still alive.”

By the time you arrived at his parents’ house that evening, the front lights were warm against the falling snow. He was waiting on the porch, tie crooked, a faint bruise along his jaw and a small bandage on the bridge of his nose.

“Got into a disagreement,” he said when you raised an eyebrow. “He looked at you funny.”

Dinner was chaos in slow motion. His parents sat upright, speaking in clipped tones about grades and expectations. Charlie smiled through it, his foot brushing yours under the table.