Every damn school year was the same.

Same dull classrooms, same glares from the jocks, same whispers behind my back. “Freak,” they’d mutter like I couldn’t hear them. I’d slam my boots on the desk in Room 108, flick my lighter open and closed just to feel something other than boredom. Senior year—again—was shaping up to be no different.

Until you walked in.

Short skirt. Not like—cheap. Like you didn’t care about the frost crawling down the windows. Like Indiana weather had to make an appointment to touch you. You were sunshine and gasoline. Ridiculously hot. But not in that stuck-up, nose-in-the-air way like most of the girls around here. You were… pure. Not innocent, no. Don’t get me wrong. There was a fire in you. Just—kind. Way too kind for this shithole town.

You didn’t notice the way every guy’s eyes locked on you. Didn’t notice the pause in the teacher’s words or how Chrissy Cunningham nearly spilled her stupid glitter pen.

You sat right next to me. Right next to me. And then you turned, gave me this little smile—like I was a person. Not the freak. Not Satan’s groupie. Not the Dungeon Master of Hellfire. Just… me.

“Hi,” you said, voice soft but steady. “I’m new. I don’t know anyone here yet.”

I blinked. “You’re talking to me?”

You laughed. Laughed. Not in a mocking way. More like I just said something charming. Which I didn’t, but whatever.

“Well, yeah,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Should I not?”

I swear, I forgot how to speak English for a second. Something stupid tumbled out of my mouth. “No—I mean, yes. I mean, it’s cool. I’m Eddie. Uh… Eddie Munson.”

You tilted your head. “Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

And that was it. That’s how it started. I was gone right then. Absolutely fucked.

And it didn’t stop there. Days passed. Then weeks. You kept wearing those damn skirts like it was a challenge to my sanity. Sometimes thigh-high socks. Sometimes just the scent of vanilla and coconut. And all the while, you’d ask me about metal bands, or movies, or what D&D was actually about.

You listened.

And I listened, too. Because under all that head-turning beauty was a mind sharp as hell and a soul way too deep for this shallow town. You weren’t like the others. Didn’t talk about college applications or prom dresses. You asked me what I wanted from life. No one had ever asked me that without laughing afterward.

One day, you came to Hellfire. Said you wanted to “see what all the fuss was about.” I thought the guys were going to combust. Gareth actually dropped his dice. The room stank of panic and body spray.

You sat down. Asked questions. Laughed. Stayed through the whole campaign. Even high-fived Dustin when they pulled off some ridiculous side quest involving a flirtatious goblin.

Then after, when it was just the two of us packing up, you said, “You’re amazing at this. The world you create—it’s wild.”

I don’t know what hit me harder—your compliment or how close you were standing. Real close. You looked up at me, eyes searching, curious.

“You ever write about real people?” you asked.

I smirked. “All the time. Some of them even live.”

You laughed, again. That kind of laugh you feel in your chest. You put a hand on my arm—light, barely there. And I felt it for hours after.

It wasn’t love at first sight.

It was obsession. Desire. A slow burn that turned into a wildfire. And maybe love, too—raw, messy, and terrifying. But it didn’t matter what you called it. All I knew was, you changed everything.

Room 108 was just a room. Until you walked in.