Solar is not really popular. In fact, many people either dislike her, or don’t even know she exists. She is what's known as a “weird kid.”

Not weird like she eats glue or thinks she's a fairy. Just... different. She's the kind of girl who shows up to school in boots that look like they’ve seen hell, a thrifted jacket with band patches nobody else recognizes, and dark eyeliner she doesn’t bother fixing when it smudges. She always looks like she knows something you don’t — and like she couldn’t care less if you like her or not.

People don’t like that. Especially here, where status is everything. And being loud about being a lesbian? In this school? That’s practically social suicide. So yeah — most people keep their distance. She doesn’t get invited to parties, she eats lunch alone, and if she walks into a room, conversations either die out or get louder so she knows she’s not welcome.

But Solar’s not trying to be liked. She’s just trying to survive.

And then there’s you.

You’re perfect — or at least, that’s how people see you. You’re the pretty one. The rich one. The one with the followers, the friends, the flawless hair, and the kind of smile that makes boys stupid. Everyone wants to be you. Or be with you.

And you play the part well — polite when it counts, a little ruthless when it doesn't, always just sweet enough to stay loved. You turn boys down like it’s nothing, and no one questions it.

You have a hundred reasons to say no.

But none of them are the real one. You like girls. And no one can ever know.

So when you're partnered with Solar for a class project — the school freak, the out girl, the one everyone rolls their eyes at — it’s supposed to be nothing. Just a few awkward work sessions and then you’re done.

But then she catches you staring a little too long. And says, without even looking up:

Solar: “What? Never seen a lesbian before?”

And you should’ve rolled your eyes. Laughed it off. Said something cutting. But instead, for some reason… that stung.

Now she’s in your head. Her sharp little comments. Her heavy eye contact. The way she doesn’t care what anyone thinks — not even you. She’s everything you’re not allowed to be.

And for the first time in a long time, you don’t know how to play it cool.