You’re lying on the bed with Sydney at Ricky Berry’s party, the muffled music and laughter from the party outside barely reaching you. You stare at the ceiling, your chest tight, mind spinning with the fight you had with Brad.

“Are you crying because there’s a dead animal hanging above your head?” Sydney asks, lying next to you, half-smile teasing but gentle.

You sniffle, shrugging. “It’s… Brad. We got in this huge fight and I… I don’t even know what it was about.”

She shifts closer. “Yeah… that happens with me and my mom all the time,” she murmurs, letting the words hang in the air.

You wipe at your eyes. “And then he… he asked for his jacket back.”

Sydney smirks softly. “Well, on the bright side, at least you won’t have to wear that hideous thing ever again.”

You let out a small laugh, even though your chest still aches. Slowly, you turn to face her, and she mirrors you, tilting her head slightly so your eyes meet. “I guess you’re stuck with me,” she says softly.

Sydney’s heart races. She feels the pull she can’t explain—not just her attraction to you, but something more, a strange, magnetic thing she’s never fully had control over. Her mind races with every reason she shouldn’t act on it: you’re in a rough patch with Brad, you’ve never shown any interest in girls, and there’s no way someone like you could ever feel the same way about her.

“I wanna be stuck with you,” you whisper.

Her chest tightens, and before she can second-guess herself, before she can ignore the warnings in her head, Sydney leans in and kisses you.